




c> 





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, > n N O «_ 







Scenes in Europe: 



OR, 



OBSERVATIONS BY AN AMATEUR ARTIST 



BY 



LORETTA J. POST 




l^JMJM:^''\ 



CINCINNATI: 

HITCHCOCK AND WALDEN. 

NEW YORK: 
NELSON AND PHILLIPS. 

1874. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, 

BY HITCHCOCK & WALDEN, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



THE LIBRARY 
or CONGRESS 
WASHINGTON 



Preface 



THERE comes into the experience of all 
travelers in Europe a large amount of 
weariness, vexation, and discomfort ; and in paint- 
ing our pictures we have endeavored to keep 
prominent the pleasant points, and leave the dis- 
agreeable ones in the background ; those who 
seek food in the latter will find plenty in every- 
day life, and those who do not will be quite sat- 
isfied to see the sunny side. We are not at all 
in sympathy with the lady who, recently writing 
from Europe, says : "They surpass us in nothing 
but ruins and pictures. Go where you will, every 
thing is finished, and decaying. It is about as in- 
teresting as an old cemetery — historically great, 
and practically dead." There is a spice of truth 
in the first remark ; but she gives us, objectively, 
what I consider the very basis of interest we find 
in traveling there. It is the leaving present 
scenes ; the relief from the present pushing, pro- 
gressive American life ; the time for reflection 
3 



4 PREFACE. 

we enjoy. There is a wonderful spell thrown 
over nature by the historical interest ; and we like 
to decipher the inscriptions that mark almost 
every foot of ground, telling of human joy or 
human woe. We have wandered among those 
time-worn paths, and thus felt the influence that 
hangs about the dead centuries, and drawn lessons 
from them, such as unaided nature, however 
beautiful, can never give. 

In giving our experiences, our object is to 
bring pleasure to our friends and kind readers ; 
to stimulate to quick and just observation, and 
appreciation of the grandeur and beauty that 
our Creator has given us in varying forms for 
our enjoyment and enlargement ; as also, so far 
as I can, to encourage the study and love of true 
art in all its branches. These are the objects 
aimed at in writing ; and if in any degree suc- 
cessful, my purpose will be reached. 

I trust I may add a word to inexperienced 
travelers, who purpose going to Europe: Take 
with you a large amount of patience, and very 
little baggage. The enjoyment and profit will 
be in proportion to the culture and capabilities 
of each traveler ; for *' we receive but what we 
give," or what we are prepared to appreciate. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 



Crossing the Ocean — Rough Weather — Seasickness— -Amuse- 
ments — Reflections — Retrospection—" Land Ahead " — Landing at 
Queenstown — Beggars — Town and Country — River Lee — Cork — 
Its Sights — Blarney Castle, • I3 

CHAPTER IL 

Killarney — Lakes — Mountains — Trees — Flowers — Fine Es- 
tates — Old Ruins — Beggars — Good Hotels, . . . .27 

CHAPTER IIL 

Dublin — Streets — Buildings — Churches— Parks — People, . 35 

CHAPTER IV. 

Crossing the Irish Channel — Holyhead — Bangor — North 
Wales — People — Cottages— Beaumaris — Capel Curig — Llanber- 
ris Pass — Slate-quarries — Caernarvon Castle, . . .38 

CHAPTER V. 

Conway — England — Chester — Eaton Hall — Manufacturing 
Districts — Warwick (the Castle) — Kenilworth Castle — Stratford- 
upon-Avon — Country about it — Shakespeare's Home, . . 47 

5 



6 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

London — Trafalgar Square — House of Parliament — How it 
impressed us — National Art-gallery — Turner — Gustave Dore — 
Tableauxs Vivant — Hyde Park — Hampcon Court — Twicken- 
ham — Richmond Hill — Windsor Castle — Gray — Stoke-Pogis 
Church, . . . . 56 

CHAPTER VII. 

London — Impressions of its Vastness — Prominent Objects of 
Interest — St. Paul's Cathedral — Tomb of Wellington — Monu- 
ments — Westminster Abbey — Reflections — Temple Church — St. 
Giles — Milton— Bethnal Green, 70 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Tower — Its Impressions — Victims — Martyrdoms^Sug- 
gestions — Latimer and Ridley — Preachers of the Present Da}^ — 
Spurgeon — Newman Hall — Dr. Parker — Dr. Gumming, . 79 

CHAPTER IX. 

South of England— Winchester — Alfred the Great's Burial- 
place, as well also as Egbert's and Canute's — Country — Impres- 
sions — Southampton — Old Ruins — Netley Abbey, . . 88 

CHAPTER X. 

Lake Country of England — Rugby — Dr. Arnold — Winder- 
mere — Bowness — Lake House — Furness Abbey — Wordsworth — 
Grasmere — Keswick — Southey, 97 

CHAPTER XL 

Keswick — Penrith — Carlisle — Dumfries — Robert Burns — His 
Birthplace — Glasgow — How it impressed us — Cathedral — A Trip 
to Loch Lomond — Loch Katrine — The Trosachs, . .109 



CONTENTS. 7 

CHAPTER XII. 

Clyde — Crinan Canal — Oban — lona — Staffa — Fingal's Cave — 
Western Lakes — Caledonian Canal — Inverness — Dunkeld — 
Stirling, . . • . . . . . . - . 123 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Entrance to Edinburgh — Park — Monuments — John Knox — 
Holyrood — Mary, Queen of Scots — Arthur's Seat — Roslyn 
Chapel — Melrose Abbey — Abbotsford — Sir Walter Scott — His 
Burial-place — Dryburg Abbey, . . , , . . 133 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Holland — Its Origin — Its Aspect — Towns and Cities — Rot- 
terdam — Strange Sights — The Hague — Palace in the Woods — 
Amsterdam, . . 145 

CHAPTER XV. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main — Impressions — Churches — Art — Ari- 
adne — ** Goethe's Vaterhaus " — The Poet's Birthplace — Worms — 
The Diet at Worms — Luther's Monument— -Heidelberg Castle — 
Baden-Baden — Illuminations — Strasburg Cathedral, . . 158 

CHAPTER XVI. 

First Visit to the Continent — Strange Impressions — Brus- 
sels — Cologne — The Rhine — Rolandseck — Coblentz — '* Blue 
Moselle " — Bingen — Mayence — Homberg Springs — Sights — 
Taunus Mountains — Feldberg, . . . . . .174 

CHAPTER XVII. 

From Frankfort to Heidelberg — Heidelberg Castle — Munich — 
Churches— The King's Palace— Art, ., ... 186 



8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Vienna visited during our First Tour, Six Years previous to 
the Last — The Visit of the Sultan — What we saw — Art-gallery 
of Prince Lichtenstein — Old Palace of Maria Theresa — St. 
Stephen's — View from the Tower — Lacshenberg Palace — Home- 
ward Ride, . 195 

CHAPTER XIX. 

From Vienna to Salzburg — Six Years Ago — The Visit of 
Louis Napoleon and Empress Eugenie to the Emperor and 
Empress of Austria — Procession — Illuminations — The Valley of 
the Inn — Innspruck — Maximilian — Charles V — ^Jefferson Davis — 
Andreas Hofer, 208 

CHAPTER XX. 

Innspruck — Valleys — Towns — Heida — First Sight of a Gla- 
cier — Stelvio Pass — Grand Views — Bagni Bormio — First Sight 
of Italy, 217 

CHAPTER XXL 

Bormio — Italian Valleys — Bernina Pass — Upper Engadine — 
Julian Pass — Coire, . . 226 

CHAPTER XXIL 

Coire — Down the Valley to Zurich — Church of Zwingli — 
Lavater — Wood-carvings — Lucerne — Summer Visitors — Lake 
of Lucerne — Tellen-Platz — Fluellen — Weggis — Trip up the 
Rhigi — Extensive View — Return, 234 



CONTENTS. 9 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Brunig Pass — Giesbach Falls — Interlachen — The Jungfrau — 
The Valley of Lauterbrunnen — Grindelwald — Berne — Freiburg — 
Great Organ — Ouchy — Lausanne — Signal Station, . . 240 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Lake Geneva and its Associations — Lake Leman — Vevay — 
Chillon — Lausanne — Coppet — Diodati — Byron — Rousseau — Gib- 
bon — Calvin — Mont Blanc at Sunrise, .... 252 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Geneva, Modern and Ancient — Excursions — Chamouny — Sal- 
lenches — Village of Chamouny — Mer de Glace — Tete Noir — 
Forclaz — Martigny, . . . . . . . .261 

CHAPTER XXVL 

Martigny — The Rhone Valley — Brieg — Its Inhabitants — A 
Terrible Snow-storm, or Tourmente, encountered on the Simplon 
Pass — Grandeur of the Pass — Discomforts — Delay — Italian Side 
of the Pass — Italian Valleys, 273 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Italian Lakes — Lago Maggiore — Isola Bella — Lugano — 
Como— Milan — Leonardo da Vinci — Milan Cathedral — Turin — 
Country — Mont Cenis Tunnel, 284 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Paris — First and Second Visit — Impressions — People — Art — 
Art Thoughts — The Louvre — Churches — The Madeleine — A Fu- 
neral—The Pantheon— St. Etienne du Mont— St. Chapelle— St. 
Germain de Pres — Old Frescos, 299 



10 CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



Wanderings about Paris — Luxembourg — Pictures — Hotel des 
Invalides — Malmaison — Josephine — Palace of Versailles — Pic- 
tures—The Grand Trianon — Little Trianon — Marie Antoi- 
nette, - . 316 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Gobelin Tapestry — Manner of making it — Hotel 
Cluny — Halles Central — Pere la Chaise — Gloomy Impressions — 
St. Denis — Suggestions — Monuments — Reflections, . , 328 



ILLUSTRATIONS, 



FACE PAGE. 

"Alloway's Auld Haunted Kirk," . . Frontispiece, 

At Cork, 22 

Westminster Abbey, ....... 72 

Spurgeon's Tabernacle, . . . . . . .84 

Netley Abbey, 92 

Interior of Burns's House, .... . .111 

Edinburgh (New Town), from the Castle, . . 133 

Melrose Abbey, 142 

Dutch Dog-cart, . . 150 

Luther Monument at Worms, . . . . .165 

An Alpine Glacier, 221 

View of the Alps, . . . . . . . . 280 



SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dl\kj)tef I. 

CROSSING THE OCEAN — ROUGH WEATHER — SEASICKNESS — 
AMUSEMENTS — REFLECTIONS — RETROSPECTION — ** LAND 
AHEAD" — LANDING AT QUEENSTOWN — BEGGARS — TOWN 
AND COUNTRY — RIVER LEE — CORK — ITS SIGHTS — BLARNEY 
CASTLE. 

ON a sunny day in early Spring, we hurried 
through the surging crowds at the New York 
docks, and, amidst piles of freight, crowds and confu- 
sion, clambered up the steep sides of our outward- 
bound vessel. Soon the hour for departure arrived; 
and our great steamer, with slow and measured 
movements, turned from the dock — with flying flags 
and increasing speed, swept grandly down the bay. 

We leaned over the bulwarks to catch the last 
view of our friends on shore, whom we were leaving 
for an indefinite time. Soon a steamer crossed our 
track, and the excursion-party saluted us, while their 
band played the grand old patriotic air of ^ ^America.'' 
Coming at such a moment, it touched tenderly the 
trembling chords of our heart-strings; but friends, 

13 



14 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

music, the shores, and even other lines of steamers, 
were fast receding from us, as we hurried on toward 
the 6cean. 

Inflated by this starting triumph, we saw nothing 
ahead but smooth seas, ease, and pleasure; but, 
alas for human expectations! night came on, with 
clouds, darkness, high winds, and tumultuous waves, 
and, with most of the passengers, a corresponding 
tumult in the ^^nner man/' 

For three or four days, heavy skies, fog, cold, and 
general discomfort continued. There was a sick, 
weary, hopeless-looking company. The sea moaned 
and growled by turns, the chains rattled, machinery 
creaked, the waves pounded against the quivering 
vessel, and the wind played a melancholy tune 
through the cordage and masts. On the fourth day, 
no landsmen could for a moment keep their footing, 
and we all found sufficient employment in hanging 
to our berths. Our state-room seemed the battle- 
ground of some secret, mischievous imps, that set 
clothes, shoes, combs, brushes, nuts, oranges, trunks, 
and baskets flying in all directions. As the vessel 
rose upon one side, down went the baggage upon 
the other, and ^^vice ve^^sa,'*^ 

To rise . and dress was impossible ; and though 
not a victim to seasickness, I was a victim to the 
uncomfortable surroundings ; and I must needs listen 
to the groanings and - upheavings around me, that 
mingled with the general elemental war. 

I looked through the thick glass of the port-holes, 



AT SEA. 15 

only to dodge back as the great blue mounds of 
sweeping waters dashed and broke against it. I 
tried to lie contented, conjuring the sublimity of the 
scene from the deck; but how the materialistic in- 
fluences interfered! The rattling of dishes, the 
groans of the weary, and cries of sick children, and 
innumerable influences, came to demolish one's fan- 
cies and reveries. 

Well, all things have an end, even that most un- 
comfortable condition which I have described; and 
at length the dull, leaden skies and the foggy nights 
were over, the Banks of Newfoundland left at com- 
fortable distance behind us, the bell had ceased its 
warning toll for the fishing-smacks, the sun came 
forth in dazzling brightness, and the waves leaped up 
in smiles and bounding joy. 

The influence was infectious, and soon the deck 
was strewn with the resuscitated victims, who lay 
about in all the lawlessness of vagabondism. Under 
the lee of the smoke-stack were stowed numerous 
bundles, and heaps of blankets, shawls, and lap- 
robes, from out of which peered sickly, disconsolate 
faces. Others, with a little more strength and reso- 
lution, clinging to some friendly arm, paced the 
deck with unsteady tread, while the winds played 
fiercely with their loose garments and hanging hair. 

By and by, there was a general waking-up of all 
the drowsy powers of body and mind; for eventually 
the ocean air proves to be the very elixir of life — a 
regenerator of physical and mental powers — infusing 



l6 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

therein a large amount of good-nature and cheer- 
fulness. At such times, people at sea are . as easily 
pleased as children with toys. They will stand de- 
lighted, watching the play of the clumsy porpoises, 
play childish games by the hour, go quite wild over 
the sight of a spouting whale away in the distance, 
and quite bubble over with delight at the sight of a 
vessel. 

I am sure I shall never forget my first sight of a 
full-rigged ship — with all her sails spread, under the 
bright sun, and against the dark waters — she looked 
so pure and white. As she turned her prow toward 
as, the dancing waves gave the great vessel a grace- 
ful, bowing movement, while she and our steamer, 
with color-flags, exchanged salutations; then, with 
graceful adieus, the white-winged vessel sped on her 
way, and soon there lay between us only a trackless 
waste. Thus time passes, with such objects; also 
watching the rising and setting sun, the changing 
colors and phases of sky and ocean, which in any 
and all aspects are full of majesty and inspiring 
awe. Who is so unappreciative as not to feel the 
soul expand as the eye sweeps over the boundless 
expanse, and he takes into account the wonders of 
the great deep ! There seems to come, then, an 
overpowering sense of Him *Svho holds the sea in 
the hollow of his hand, and taketh up the isles as a 
very little thing.'' David says, ''The Lord on high 
is mightier than the noise of many waters; yea, 
than the migiity waves of the sea.'' 



"LAND AHEAD!" \^ 

More than on land, there comes an intense feel- 
ing of isolation and dependence ; and the soul, in its 
helplessness, reaches out toward the only One who 
is able to protect and keep it. With these intensified 
feelings, how the aroused conscience begins to search 
the secret cells of the heart, and the events of the 
past stand in clear and distinct characters ? Memory- 
calls up sins indulged, promises broken, sorrows 
endured, joys fled. It seems something of the retro- 
spective power is given that some have expressed as 
experiencing when about to be launched on the 
ocean of eternity, and they look back, with the 
spiritual vision cleared. 

While viewing with awe and wonder the works 
of God, I al^o look with astonishment upon the 
achievements of man; and who does not, that has 
witnessed an ocean storm? To see the great armies 
of angry waves come battling against the vessel, the 
spray filling the air, the ship plunging, and trembling 
in every timber, the cordage creaking, the wind howl- 
ing, accompanied by that deep, muttering, shudder- 
ing undertone that sounds like a voice from some 
distant world; and in the midst of this war of ele- 
ments, to see the officers, with calm brow and steady 
nerve, quietly giving commands, using compass and 
chart, go unerringly toward the desired haven, — 
such a sight exalts the dignity of man and his 
powers. 

There came a bright morning, when the voyage 
was nearly over, and the welcome cry was heard, 

2 



1 8 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

''Land khead!" We rushed on deck, an eager 
crowd, and far in the distance lay the great blue 
line of the Irish coast. It was half lost in haze, but 
it nevertheless seemed a sure haven to a few of us. 
The day continued bright, and all faces beamed with 
satisfaction. As we approached the shore, there 
gradually came out more clearly to our view, promon- 
tories, coves, and those great rock bastions that guard 
the country from the advancing armies of .ocean 
waves that are forever battling against them. 

All along, we enjoyed tracing the picturesque 
outline of the Isle of Erin, with its mountains, its 
white rocks, its round towers, and its bays. Cattle 
and sheep roamed on the thousand hills. Human 
habitations were seldom seen; but 6ver the glassy 
sea were flying sloops, schooners, and bevies of 
sail-boats. 

A soft, restful atmosphere began to breathe from 
the land. It was not, however, until midnight that 
we were led down a steep ladder on the ship's side, 
in rain and darkness, and put on board a miserable 
Irish tug-boat that was to land us at Queenstown. 
The sailors poured out profane words at every 
breath, and the rain poured upon us; and we were 
glad to escape from both, even though our exit was 
to be through a custom-house. From the latter, 
however, we had a speedy release, having only to 
assure the officials we had neither spirits nor cigars. 

Once at the comfortable inn, we were truly thank- 
ful for many things, and one of the items was a 



AT QUEENSTOWN. I9 

broad and comfortable bed. Our hotel stood on the 
quay. Looking out in the morning, we were greeted 
by crowds of the same type of Irish that land in 
New York every week. Mixed among them were 
sailors and soldiers. Men, women, and children 
stood around in rags and dirt and wretchedness. 
With smiling faces, they gazed toward our windows, 
having, I suppose by instinct, been made aware of 
the arrival of a party of Americans, the latter being 
their legitimate prey. 

Sight-seeing being our purpose, we lost no time. 
So soon as we had partaken of an excellent break- 
fast, and asked a few questions — not of ^^ mine host," 
but every-where ^^rhine hostess" — we set out. We 
were all unconscious of the honors and compliments 
that awaited us. We had no sooner entered the 
street than we were surrounded by a most formi- 
dable escort, even players upon instruments. This 
was by no means a disinterested honor; for, with a 
volubility and sharpness of wit characteristic of the 
Irish, they used all their powers on us, resolved to 
elicit a response in the way of '^hard cash." When 
smiles and honeyed words failed, they had recourse to 
the sad and pathetic. The whole thing would have 
been most tormenting but for its exceeding comic- 
ality. Finding us very obdurate, the crowd gradu- 
ally lessened. One woman, very persistent, and fol- 
lowed by a group of children, came up to me with 
a doleful face, and the corner of her plaid apron ap- 
plied to her eye, and said : ^^ Sure, lady, ye ^11 help me; 



20 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

for yeer face shows yeVe a good heart; and, for the 
love of God and the Holy Mither, ye '11 lave me a 
few pennies. I'm a lone widdy, dependin' on me 
two arms for the bit o' sup as kapes body and sowl 
togither, an' it's hard work has been me lot in this 
weary world; but I niver stales, an' am the sowl of 
honor." This touching appeal could not be resisted, 
and the blessings of the Holy ^^Mither" were in- 
voked in our behalf. 

Left at length in freedom, we began a survey of 
the charming town and its surroundings. Queens- 
town lies around a magnificent bay, in the form of 
an amphitheater. The streets run in terraces along 
on the hill-sides; these are adorned with villas, in 
great variety of architecture. Nicely ornamented 
gardens crown the ledges; the rocky portions are 
covered with ivy and a profusion of wild-flowers. 
From all points, there is a broad and extensive view 
of the bay, islands, and distant hills, dissolving in 
sky and ocean. 

In the afternoon we took a conveyance for a ride 
in the country. There was an undulating landscape 
of gentle hills and fertile vales, covered with a rich, 
velvety carpet of green. Scattered singly, and in 
groups, were fine old trees. Along the roadside 
were hedges of white and pink hawthorn, in full 
bloom. All along, were scattered a great profusion 
of wild-flowers — the purple-eyed erigeron, the white 
dryas, the blue veronica, and various others. 
Through the fields ran hedge-rows of evergreen furze, 



TO CORK. 21 

covered with masses of brilliant yellow blossoms, 
whose light against the distant fields was gorgeous, 
especially when the sun broke in spots upon them — 
for seldom, there, is the sun spread over a whole 
landscape — and the rays seem intensified as he darts 
his beams through the openings in the clouds. 

Just outside Queenstown lie several large estates, 
belonging to some of the Irish nobility; on these are 
fine old forests, with fine drives and deer-parks. 
Often, between these estates, are long stretches of 
landscape, with ^'niver a house." The Irish peas- 
antry live in groups. Their low stone cottages, with 
thatched roofs, are rather a picturesque feature, 
in their emerald surroundings. The exteriors are 
nicely whitewashed, making clean the outside; but 
within, pigs and poultry and dirty children mingle 
incongruously, with this difference, that especial fa- 
vors are shown the pigs, because ''they pay the 
rint." 

From Queenstown we took a steamer for Cork. 
We passed islands bristling with fortifications, and 
bold headlands, that defend the capacious harbor. 
Among the most conspicuous islands are, Spike Isl- 
and, a deposit for naval stores; Rocky Island, and 
HaulbowHne, where excavations were made in the 
rock for storing powder. Once past these, going up 
the river Lee, the scenery is diversified and enchant- 
ing, there being a numberless succession of beauti- 
ful objects combined, to embellish what Moore called 
'^the noble sea avenue." The waters are broad^ 



22 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and all along are charming natural scenes, richly 
adorned by the hand of art. Summer homes of 
wealthy and refined aristocrats lie thick along the 
green shores; picturesque villas adorn the hill-sides; 
pretty Gothic cottages stand on the ledges, profusely 
ornamented with vines and flowers. Here and there 
stand ivy-clad ruins, linking the present with the 
past. A person who was familiar with Eastern scen- 
ery said, that ^ * a few minarets placed in these hang- 
ing gardens would realize the Bosphorus." 

Arriving at Cork, the illusions vanish. The docks 
are fine, and the shipping crowded, and marked by 
flags from many nations. Once on the docks, dirt 
and confusion rule, — vessels loading and unloading 
with goods, coal, hides, and various articles of mer- 
chandise, cattle, sheep, and squealing pigs; seamen 
yehoeing, cabmen gesticulating and cursing; ragged, 
barefoot boys singing, *^Come back to Erin," and 
similar pathetic songs, holding out their hands for 
pennies, their bright eyes gleaming from under their 
matted hair and dirty faces — embryo Currans and 
O'Connells, perhaps. 

Crossing St. Patrick's Bridge, we drove along a 
street of magnificent breadth, passed Father Math- 
ew's monument, landed at a large hotel, where a 
group of clerical-looking individuals, in black dress- 
coats and white cravats, stood in waiting to bestow 
upon us every possible attention. We took rooms, 
and for a time amused ourselves with watching the 
motley throng that crowded this great thoroughfare; 




At Cork. 



Face Page 22. 



CORK. 23 

and the sights were ludicrous as well as pitiful. 
Going out, we found many fine and very massive 
buildings, and some elegant shops, where were taste- 
fully displayed many tempting goods. In Cork, there 
seems scarcely a middle ground; one sees either 
magnificence or squalid poverty. It is said the ma- 
jority of the wealthy live about the suburbs of the 
city, which are beautiful. In one portion of the 
town is a park; and around it, and along one splen 
didly shaded avenue, are numerous elegant homes. 
Another portion we saw of the city was a sad and 
striking contrast to these, — narrow streets, miserable 
houses, offensive odors, and degenerate humanity in 
rags and wretchedness; booths for the sale of de- 
cayed vegetables; junk-shops for cast-off garments 
and battered furniture, going to pay taxes and grog- 
bills. Half-drunken men sat nodding over their 
pipes, the women chaffering and clamoring with true 
Irish volubility, and it seemed a veritable pandemo- 
nium. The rhyme of a humorous priest best de- 
scribes such a scene: 

" Mud cabins swarm in 
This place so charmin', 
With sailor's garments, 

Hung out to dry. 
And each abode is 
Snug and commodious 
With pigs melodious, 

In straw-built sty. 

'T is there the turf is, 

And lots of Murphies, 

And oyster-shells. 



24 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Nor any lack oh, 
Of good tobacco ; 
Though what is smuggled, 
By far excels." 

From Cork, every tourist must go out to Blarney 
Castle, distant six or seven miles. We took the pop- 
ular vehicle called a jaunting-car. It consists of two 
wheels, two seats placed back to back, running 
longitudinally, and standing at an angle of forty de- 
grees. A foot-board running parallel with the seat, 
serves for a step-ladder and foot-rest. The driver 
occupies an elevated position in front, and, as seems 
customary, plies the whip unmercifully; and to the 
uninitiated it requires dexterous management to hold 
your position, and not be dropped off by the way. 

The roads were broad, smooth, and easy, and 
running among scenes of varied beauty. Meadows 
and streams, and low, wooded hills lay about us, and 
a leafy canopy over our heads, and trim hedges bor- 
dering the roadside. All this was most enjoyable; but 
we were annoyed by beggars, and by the desire of 
our driver constantly to impose fees upon us, when 
our bargain included all things. Consequently, we did 
not feel in a benevolent mood, when, after passing 
the porter's lodge, a new object of charity presented 
itself in the person of a ragged, dilapidated fiddler. 
His instrument was half strung, cracked, and inhar- 
monious as a Scotch bagpipe, and he evidently 
meant to torture money from us. The more we tried 
to shake him off, the more earnestly he plied his 



BLARNEY CASTLE. 2$ 

vocation, and persistently followed on, until he 
reached an inclosure he was not permitted to pass. 

The approach to the castle is through a grove of 
lofty old trees, far above which rises the great square 
tower and crumbling walls. An impressive silence 
reigns around, broken only by the cawing jackdaws. 

In a low cottage, a little way across the lawn, 
lives the keeper of the castle, a weird-looking old 
woman, bent with the weight of years, whose wrinkled 
visage and blurred eye betoken that she is living 
more in the past than present. She went mechanically 
through her duties. Applying the ponderous key to 
the rickety door, it swung back on the rusty hinges, 
revealing nothing save heaps of rubbish, dust, and 
darkness. 

However, the principal object of search was 
there, — the wonderful blarney-stone, that imparts to 
those who kiss it, great fluency of speech, eloquence, 
and power of pleasing. 

" Like a magnet, its influence such is, 
That attraction it gives all it touches. 
If you kiss it, they say, from that blessed day, 
You may kiss whom you please, with your blarney." 

After crossing the palm of the old woman's hand 
with silver, we went out to the ^* Sweet Rock Close," 
the entrance to the '^witches' cave," where, legend 
says, for a long time dwelt an enchanted lady. On 
the smooth lawn, a little way back from the castle, I 
sat down and listened to the gurgling brook running 
at my feet, looked into the eyes of the sweet Spring 



26 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

violets clustered around me; I looked up at the 
glassless, ivy-draped windows, on up to the battle- 
mented walls and towers, hung with ivy banners, 
and it was a goodly picture. 

At one side of the castle stood a wooded dell, 
and beyond, at a short distance, a bright little lake 
shining among the meadows and trees, where, legend 
says, a herd of ^^ white kine" come up from the 
water to pasture on the soft green shores, and then 
go down again to their watery bed. 

The luxuriance and beauty of the scene, the mild 
air of the early Spring, the profusion of flowers, are 
partly the gift of favorable soil; but they are fanned 
by the warm breath that comes, in ocean currents, 
from the tropical regions to the Emerald Isle. We 
wished the kiss just given to the blarney-stone mighty 
by its magical influence, give us at once the power 
adequately to portray the scene and its influences. 



KILLARNEY. 2^ 



dl\kj)tef II. 

KILLARNEY — LAKES — MOUNTAINS — TREES — FLOWERS — FINE 
ESTATES — OLD RUINS — BEGGARS — GOOD HOTELS. 

IT was a pleasant morning when we left Cork for 
Mallow, where we were to change cars for 
Killarney. The green, fertile country was thickly 
dotted over with sheep and cattle, which form the 
principal article of commerce. As we turned from 
this road at Mallow, we entered a barren, uninter- 
esting country, showing little but peat-beds, rocky 
hills, and only an occasional low cottage; but when 
we suddenly emerged from this, and entered the 
town of Killarney, we were all the better prepared to 
appreciate the redundant beauty with which that 
region overflows. 

Around the little station were numerous charac- 
teristic Irish vehicles, which the noisy cabmen offered 
us very ^^ chape." 

What a puzzling question it is to decide upon a 
hotel, when one hears the praises of each so loudly 
sounded! We finally took a carriage for the Lake 
House. We rattled over the narrow, rough streets 
of the old town, out on a fine road, walled in on 
either hand, and densely overhung with fine trees 



28 SCENES IN EUROPE, 

and trailing ivy. Following this a mile or more, we 
entered the spacious grounds and groves that form 
an attractive accompaniment to the hotel, which sits 
on the borders of the middle lake. 

The house was old and rambling; the furniture 
very antiquated, covered with pretty chintz calico. 
This also adorned the windows, and the heavy old 
bedsteads. There were old chairs, tables, and buf- 
fets — carefully preserved relics of bygone ages. The 
house was scrupulously neat, and service good; and 
we are compelled to acknowledge the boiled salmon 
a little better than any thing in the line of fish ever 
before tasted. 

Our pleasant room looked out on the lakes and 
mountains; and we shall never forget with what 
almost breathless delight we stood and for the first 
time took in that scene, unrivaled for striking out- 
line and varied surroundings. The waters of the 
lake looked clear as crystal; the mountain forms, 
and all their rich colorings, were intensified by re- 
flections in those transparent depths; little boats 
were gliding here and there, and a train of moving 
mist-clouds swept high above the lake, touching 
lightly the hill-tops; and there was about all a rich 
and characteristic beauty we have never seen sur- 
passed. We felt to commend the good taste of Mr. 
and Mrs. Barney Williams, who, the previous year, 
had spent several weeks at the Lake House; but 
their lavish gifts to porters and boatmen have en- 
tailed disagreeable annoyances to all who follow 



LAKES OF KILLARNEY. 29 

them, and we experienced it at every turn. We 
could not even look out of the window but some 
importunate guide or boatman would beg the priv- 
ilege of serving us, and tell us how very ^* chape" 
would be their services, when they were charging us 
double the usual rates. And cautiously as we made 
our bargains, these sharp-witted Irishmen found a 
sure way to swindle us; and, out of pure vexation, 
we gave up some of the exploring trips we had 
anticipated making. 

One bright morning, while there, we took an anti- 
quated vehicle, for a ride along the lakes, and out to 
the famous Tore Waterfall. We paid for admission 
to the glen, walked about a quarter of a mile, and, 
between great rocky ledges, saw the Tore Cascade. 
A fall of only about sixty feet comes tumbling over 
the rocks; and the fact that the waters are supplied 
from the Devil's Punch-bowl, that stands on an ad- 
joining mountain, may be a matter of great . interest 
to the people of that region, but we could think of 
scores of waterfalls in Central New York that greatly 
surpass this. We paid several exacted fees, pro- 
nounced it a humbug, and went on to Tore Lake. 
In this we were not disappointed. There is a. solemn 
and peculiar charm about it. Shut in, as it is, by tall, 
dark mountains of striking outline, and whose sides 
are covered with dark foliage, there is over all the 
scene a wild and somber air of primeval solitude and 
impressive beauty. 

From this we followed a narrow, winding channel 



30 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

into the middle lake. Skirting the base of the mount- 
ains, among reedy banks, amid scenes extremely- 
picturesque, we came to Dinis Island, where sits a 
pretty cottage built by Lord Kenmare. The guide 
dwelt with especial emphasis on the fact that the 
queen lunched there, on her visit to Killarney. But 
nature there needs no accessories, for the scenes are 
satisfying. 

Gliding, in our little boat, from Dinis Island 
toward the middle lake, high above us rose a tall, 
rocky mountain, of pyramidal shape. On its summit, 
it is said, the eagles have held their ancestral home 
for centuries, and no one intrudes upon the ^'Eagle's 
Crag." 

Just at the foot of this mountain, our guide 
awakened the most wonderful echoes with his great 
bugle. The musical tones were many and varied, 
full and deep, high and loud. The sound went 
rolling up the mountain-side, was caught by the sur- 
rounding mountains in marvelous chorus, and then 
died gently in soft, low tones around us. After this, 
the guide and oarsmen sang several native songs with 
genuine Irish spirit, and the impromptu entertainment 
meant, ''We wish a large fee, and drink of beer, 
when the trip is ended." 

The middle lake is straggling in shape and varied 
in outline. Numerous little coves and bays lie along 
its shores, and the mountains stretch around in 
broken chains, or stand in tumultuous groups. 
Dark, rocky summits rise high and bare; others are 



FLOWERS. 31 

clothed with a wealth of foliage I have never seen 
equaled. There stand those dark trees, that, ^4ike 
the tree of Ufe, shed often their leaves, and are for- 
ever green." Mingled with these are richly colored 
forest-trees, fresh shrubs, and vines and wild-flowers. 
A purple bell-flower, and profusion of saxifrages, 
every-where are scattered in straggling patches. Over 
one craggy peak they have thrown a mantle of their 
royal-purple blossoms, and thus obtained for it the 
appellation of ^'Purple Mountain." 

The arbutus is abundant in all this region, and 
attains very great size. Its foliage is a light green, 
and contrasts prettily with the ash and elm, and the 
dark, shining holly. The arbutus bears rich clusters 
of drooping flowers, and afterward scarlet berries. 
The numerous articles carved out of this wood are 
among the most tempting things found in this region. 
The vine is said not to be a native of Ireland, but 
brought there from Spain by the monks. The rhodo- 
dendrons, azalias, oleanders, and fuchsias are marvels 
in size and perfection. The latter, when trained as 
trees, grow from eight to ten feet, and more. They 
live in the open air the year round. The moisture 
of the climate, of course, contributes greatly to the 
luxuriance and perfection of flowers and foliage. 
Every-where, by the roadside and lakeside, the 
senses are soothed by the ^^balm of a thousand 
flowers." 

The lower lake is the largest; and even that is 
but five miles in length, and three in breadth. In its 



32 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

characteristics it is more cheerful than the others. 
Along its banks, on one side, lies the finely orna- 
mented estate of Earl Kenmare, on which are shady- 
avenues for driving. Through these we found our 
way to Ross Castle, a celebrated ruin, standing on 
the shore of the lake. It is founded on a large 
limestone rock, and ' ' was the last to hold out against 
the Parliamentary army of 1652.'' 

From the square, battlemented tower, one can get a 
magnificent view of the lake, whose surface is dotted 
by thirty islands. Ross Island is the largest, and forms 
part of the estates of the Earl of Kenmare. One of 
the sunniest spots on the lake is the island of Innis- 
fallen, with its creeks, its bays, its old abbey, its 
abundance of trees, and its varied and extensive 
views, where, over the lake and islands, and among 
the mountains, one sees the ever-shifting atmospheric 
phenomenon — where one moment the clouds roll 
dark and heavy, then leaving behind a thin, fleecy 
veil, through which the sun falls in soft, ethereal 
beams, giving impressions that touch the heart like 
spiritual utterances. 

Between the upper and middle lakes lies the 
princely domain of Mr. Herbert, Member of Parlia- 
ment. With broken outline, the transparent lakes 
wash its borders; and around and beyond is a wild 
frame of primeval mountains. Nature, art, and fine 
taste have all combined to make this a most'attract- 
ive spot. 

On this estate stands Muckross Abbey, the most 



MUCKROSS ABBEY. 33 

charming ruin in Ireland. We reached it through 
a grand avenue of venerable beeches. Muckross 
stands secluded and silent. A sad-looking, old 
cypress-tree guards the entrance. Graves are thickly 
strewn in and about the ruin, and its shadows fall 
darkly upon them. The entrance to the church is 
through a beautiful arched doorway; and at the end 
of this long Gothic nave is a great oriel window, 
around the interlaced mullions of which the ivy 
twines — and the effect is enchanting. This ruin- 
loving vine profusely adorns every part: it wreathes 
the gray pillars and arches; it climbs over the 
crum^bling walls and towers; and from the points 
and gables it flings out its trailing pennants, that 
sway over the place like death-banners. The old 
abbey, in all of its outline and atmosphere, is full 
of a solemn and pathetic beauty. 

As an offset to the charms that nature and art 
have thrown about this favored region, I must men- 
tion the beggars that, in squalor and dirt, swarm in 
hovels, and fill the niches by the roadside. Another 
class, less pitiful and more offensive, are a sort of ^ 
frenzied beggars, appropriately called ^^ hawkers." 
They pounce upon one every-where, and, with an 
unparalleled persistency and overpowering vehemence 
of word and manner, torment one into a trade; for 
retreat seems impossible. They will run after con- ^ 
veyances for long distances, at full speed. 

The old town of Killarney is not especially in- 
viting. The shops for photographs, and ornaments 

3 



34 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

in bogwood and arbutus and laburnum, tempt one 
greatly. 

The hotels are models of excellence. Rooms 
clean, spacious, airy; waiters polite and attentive; 
the fare in all respects good. The prices correspond. 
Every item made out, you receive bills of astonishing 
length, that make you feel how sumptuously you 
must have fared. 



DUBLIN. 35 



dlikptef III. 

DUBLIN — STREETS — BUILDINGS — CHURCHES — PARKS — PEOPLE. 

AN old writer says of Dublin: *^The seat of the 
city is on all sides pleasant and comfortable 
and wholesome. If you would traverse hills, they 
are not far off; if pleasant country, it lieth in all 
parts ; if you delight in fresh water, the famous river 
Liffey runneth fast by; if you will take a view of 
the sea, it is at hand.'' 

Thus much for the surroundings. The city itself 
is every way pleasing in its impressions. The streets 
of Dublin are broad and fine; and Sackville, one of 
the principal streets, is seldom surpassed anywhere. 
The buildings are large and substantial; the shops 
are elegant, and the street thronged with carriages 
and well-dressed people. Conspicuous on this street, 
stands a fine monument to Nelson. The column is 
of the Doric order, one hundred and five feet in 
height, and surmounted by a figure of Nelson lean- 
ing against the spar of a ship. 

The public buildings of Dublin rank among the 
first in the British Empire — most noted among them 
the Bank of Ireland, once the House of Parliament; 
the custom-houses, museum, art-gallery, and the 



36 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

colleges. The old castle needs only a passing glance, 
but the chapel well deserves a visit. 

Around the colleges are thirty acres of orna- 
mented grounds; and scattered throughout the city 
are several small parks, with their verdure refreshing 
the eye. Bordering on the city lies Phoenix Park, con- 
taining one thousand seven himdred acres. On an 
elevated spot, just at the entrance of the park, stands 
a noble monument to the Duke of Wellington. The 
base is massive and high, and the obelisk that sur- 
mounts it is two hundred and five feet. Not far re- 
moved from this spot are large barracks for the 
Queen's soldiers; and the red-coats bloom, like scarlet 
poppies, among the lawns and bushes. 

Hundreds of deer roam unmolested over the 
grounds. The drives are charming. In one of the 
sunniest portions of the park stands a fine mansion, 
the Summer home of Earl Spencer, Lord Lieutenant 
of Ireland. In one portion of the park is a large 
zoological garden; in another, a very beautiful botan- 
ical garden. Just beyond this lies the city of the 
dead. Here the streets are narrow, clean, and beau- 
tified by nicely clipped trees and flowers. The 
abodes are of marble and nicely chiseled stone. At 
the entrance to these abodes, I noticed some familiar 
names; among the first, that of Curran, the Irish 
orator. The pride of this city, however, is the mon- 
ument to Daniel O'Connell, made after the model of 
the ancient fire-worshipers — a tall, round tower. 
Throughout the place are many evidences of its 



CHURCHES. 37 

antiquity — tombs, old, crumbling, and moldy — and 
the whole impression is of the most somber character. 

Among the churches of interest are St. Ann's 
Chapel, that contains the body of Felicia Hemans; 
but the most important is St. Patrick's. This was 
built in eleven hundred and ninety — a fine speci- 
men of the early pointed Gothic. The interior con- 
sists of a nave, aisles, transept, and choir. It is in- 
teresting for its style, its antiquity, its associations 
with important events, and persons famous in his- 
tory. Many fine monuments are there; among the 
number I remember Dean Swift's. 

In Dublin, one meets a far better class of people 
than in the south of Ireland. Their manners are 
affable, frank, cordial, and deferential. The Irish 
ladies have much vivacity; and they are easy, re- 
fined, delicate in their feelings, self-sustained, but un- 
ostentatious. There is a peculiar sweetness in their 
voice and intonation, in marked contrast to even the 
best American society; whether the effect of climate 
or circumstances, I know not. 



38 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikptef IV. 

CROSSING THE IRISH CHANNEL — HOLYHEAD — BANGOR — NORTH 
WALES — PEOPLE — COTTAGES — BEAUMARIS — CAPEL CURIG — 
LLANBERRIS PASS — SLATE-QUARRIES — CAERNARVON CASTLE. 

THE fine steamers that leave the wharf at Kings- 
town necessitated our going on there over- 
night, or taking a very early morning start from 
Dublin, neither of which we wished to do. Conse- 
quently, we decided to take the Commercial Line, 
that leaves at a more desirable hour, but travels with 
less comfort and less speed. 

We found, on arrival at the dock, a steamer with 
comfortable deck-cabin at the bow, and small dining- 
saloon under it; the stern set apart for Irish drovers, 
and the center of the boat had spacious arrange- 
ments for cattle and pigs, and, I might add, was 
densely packed with the latter. And, as we steamed 
out of the harbor, those ^^pigs melodious" tuned up 
their shrill pipes for a parting song to their native 
land. Once out on the boisterous waves, I think, 
judging from the lugubrious gutturals and spasmodic 
squeals, those humanized Irish pigs were seasick. 

The weather was dull and cold, and the approach 
to the great white promontory at Holyhead, with its 



BANGOR. 39 

ocean-scooped caverns and flocks of sea-fowl, was to 
us a cheerful sight. Entering the cars, we found 
them crowded with honest, sturdy-looking Welsh, 
who had been, with butter, eggs, and chickens, to 
market, and soon dropped out at the little places 
on the way. Their language was quite unintelligible 
to us. 

We found Bangor proper sitting at the bottom of 
a narrow ravine; but in modern times it has crept 
up against the face of a mountain, and rows of pretty 
cottages run along the ledges ; and this portion of the 
town well represents what the name signifies, ^'The 
high and beautiful choir." We went up to this 
choir; stopped at the Hotel Bellevue, an exceedingly 
clean and comfortable house, the garden and Sum- 
mer-house of which commanded a full view of the 
Old city, Beaumaris Bay, Menai Straits, and success- 
ive summits of the craggy Welsh mountains. 

Dr. Johnson remarked that, when he entered 
Bangor, ^ ' the moon shone eminently bright. '^ Seeing 
it thus ourselves, we could appreciate his especially 
noting this fact, since it so much requires the mel- 
lowing influence of the moon to soften the rugged 
scenery of Wales. 

If, as is said, the ecclesiastical history of Wales dates 
back to the time of Augustine's advent into England, 
then it was, like the wise man's house, ^^ founded on 
a rock;" and neither the winds of false doctrine nor 
the floods of superstition, that have beaten against it, 
have had power to move it. I suppose no race is, 



40 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

nor has ever been, characterized by such pure, vital 
Christianity, and such unswerving integrity. Crime 
or theft is seldom heard of among them; and if 
neatness is next to godliness, even in this they are 
models. Their fine, healthy faces are almost as 
refreshing as their pure breezes. 

While at Bangor, we took a carriage for a ride 
to the Menai Tubular Bridge, and from thence to 
Beaumaris. The strait across which this bridge is 
thrown is broad, but the current very rapid, and runs 
foaming and boiling noisily along. About this spot 
the scenes are very picturesque. Looking toward 
Caernarvon, the hills rise higher in successive ranges, 
until the tall background of the Snowdon range dis- 
solves in the blue distance. On the west were woods 
and water, and to the south an ancient Druidic 
grove, and the cultivated grounds of the Marquis 
of Anglesey. 

We followed the road from this place to Beau- 
maris. It skirts the bay, and is embowered under 
fine old trees. Through the openings were bright 
glimpses of the water, over which sail-boats were 
dancing merrily. Fine aristocratic mansions and 
pretty cottage homes were scattered along, on either 
hand. Carriages, with liveried servants, dashed 
along; rosy-cheeked, healthy lasses, and red-coated 
soldiers, were walking and flirting — peasants in 
Welsh costume; women with bright red skirts, 
striped waist, plaid aprons, and queer caps. It is 
now only occasionally that one sees the women 



IN WALES. 41 

wearing the long stove-pipe hat, although we saw 
some. The dress, the houses, of the Welsh were 
always marked by the most scrupulous neatness. 

The town of Beaumaris stretches out into the bay — 
the houses unpretending and ancient, the streets nar- 
row and clean. There is a fort here where large 
numbers of troops are garrisoned, one very old 
church, and the remains of an old castle that was 
one of the strongholds of Edward I. And this is 
about all of interest. But the healthy breezes from 
sea and mountain render it a very desirable resort 
for invalids. 

On another day, we took a carriage for a long 
trip out into the country. Passing down through the 
old town of Bangor, along itS crooked streets, we 
came to a finely shaded road, by the side of which 
stood a spacious hotel, where fashionable Summer 
visitors congregate. A pretty park, with shady walks 
and flowers, lay in front of it; and around this runs 
the bay. In Wales, as in most parts of Europe, the 
surroundings of the hotels are a matter of prime im- 
portance, fresh air and the charms of nature being 
considered of more value than fine furniture. This 
hotel is called the Penryhn Arms, and from it our 
road ran for miles along the magnificent grounds of 
Lord Penryhn. At length we came to a fine arched 
gateway that forms the main entrance. 

Around this were clustered many little rustic 
cottages, lying in the lap of a green meadow, and 
covered with vines and roses. Receding valleys 



42 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Stretched out to the wooded mountains, bright spots 
of water gUmmered in the distance, and, take it for 
all in all, it was one of the sweetest spots I ever saw. 
Outside the door of one of these rose-embowered 
cottages sat an artist at his easel, putting on canvas 
one of these bits of beauty; and from the heart 1 
gave him my blessing. 

For some miles we journeyed on, among pleasant 
scenes, nice farms, and whitewashed stone cottages. 
Peasant men and women worked cheerily in the fields 
together, and little black Welsh cattle dotted the 
meadows. Groups of happy, healthy children played 
by the roadside. 

Gradually we approached the hills and mountains. 
Then our road led through narrow passes, where the 
bare, rocky walls and broken summits rose almost 
perpendicularly on either side. Scooped out among 
these wild scenes was a circular basin, filled with 
black water, called Lake Ogman. Not very far be- 
yond we came to Capel Curig, a place around which 
centers some of the wildest and most interesting 
scenery in Wales. 

Two or three little Summer cottages, and one very 
long, low hotel, are the only habitations. The hotel 
is shingled on the sides and top with blue slate, and 
looked time and weather defying. As we stopped 
at the door, the landlady— a good-looking woman, 
dressed in black, with widow's cap — met us with a 
benign smile, and asked our orders. Her maid, who 
stood at her elbow, at once served us. 



THE COUNTRY. 43 

The room shown us was scrupulously clean. A 
dark, heavy, lumbering bureau stood in one corner; 
a fragile skeleton of light wood, with white dimity 
curtain and cover, and a little swinging mirror, stood 
for toilet adornings. A great solid bedstead, with 
tester and curtains extending half-way overhead, 
occupied a good share of the room. A very prim- 
itive wash-stand and huge fireplace completed the 
appointments. The air within was chilly, and the 
scenes without inviting, — so forth we sallied. 

Behind the house was a terraced lawn, radiant 
with flowers; beyond, a pleasant grove, at the foot 
of which ran a clear, rapid stream. Crossing this 
by a little foot-bridge, I climbed up the hill-side, 
and sat down on a grassy spot, where the wild-flow- 
ers were springing up in tufts and patches, — fox- 
glove and daisy, heather, harebells and ferns, and 
minute little blossoms of exquisite beauty. As 
Wordsworth says, — 

" To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 

Looking away from the flowers to the ^Wast hills 
in fluctuation fixed," high over them all looms the 
conical head of Snowdon, peering out now and then 
through the gray, shifting clouds. There was a sol- 
emn and impressive stillness about that spot, and a 
restful sense of seclusion from the turbulent, toiling 
world outside — a spot where the hurried pulse might 
learn to beat to a more healthful measure, and where 



44 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the heated brain might grow cool, and the soul shake 
off its frivolous desires. 

Returning to the house, we partook of a well- 
served supper; and then, for warmth and cheerful- 
ness, spent the evening in the dining-room, the only 
party there, besides ourselves, being an English officer 
and his two daughters. The former, Colonel Medaus 
Taylor, was for some time Governor-General in India. 
He has written several books on that country; and 
told us much in regard to it that was both new and 
interesting. Colonel Taylor is an elegant talker, and 
a polished, affable gentleman — a man, also, of broad 
and generous views and sympathies. His daughters 
are learned and accomplished, but very modest in 
showing either. 

It was with regret that we, next morning, were 
compelled to bid adieu to our English friends; but 
we must needs move on in one direction, and they 
in another. Our route was over Llanberris Pass to 
the town of the same name. Much of the way the 
pass was narrow; and on either hand arose tall, 
black masses of splintered rocks, showing neither 
bush nor herb nor flower, save a few tufts of a low 
pink flower of the orchis tribe. 

The pass is wild and desolate in the extreme. 
Along our path lay immense bowlders, in confused 
heaps; great, craggy rocks jutted out almost over- 
head; splintered points and pinnacles seemed to cut 
the sky. Two lakes have settled down in this solitary 
region, and, if possible, give a more somber effect to 



CAERNARVON CASTLE. 45 

the scene, by reflecting and doubling the gloomy 
characteristics of this verdureless solitude. 

Near the town of Llanberris is one of the immense 
slate-quarries, worked by several thousand men ; and 
from it slate is transported to all parts of the world, 
and in large quantities to America. 

From Llanberris to Caernarvon, all the scenery is 
of a grand and impressive character. In the back- 
ground, the Snowdon range, almost from base to 
summit, showed, in sharp, clear outlines. At our 
left, spread a broad, green valley; and beyond it, 
blue, hazy ridges. In front, far away, gleaming in 
the sunlight, lay broad bays and rivers, points and 
promontories, marked by the varying lines of land 
and water. In the middle distance stood the ancient 
town of Caernarvon; and above all rose the huge 
walls and many tall towers of Caernarvon Castle. 
The great height of the latter makes it singularly im- 
pressive. Its thirteen towers are surmounted by 
turrets. This castle was called the greatest work of 
the famous castle-builder, Edward I, and is one of 
the best-preserved ruins of the Mediaeval Age. It is 
now tenantless, save by the keeper. The entrance 
is still imposing, as a reminder of past splendors, and 
has an air of solemn state about it. 

The buildings inclose three acres, and the walls 
are of great thickness; but time, the destroyer, has 
eaten through, and they stand tottering and broken. 
Rickety staircases hang useless in the towers; and 
desolate apartments echo only to the rooks and the 



46 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

idle wind. In imagination, I tried to re-people it 
with kings and queens, and all their courtly retinue 
of charming ladies and chivalrous knights; but ere I 
had them half equipped, and in dignified movements 
through the halls and corridors, the spell was broken 
by a rustic group and the garrulous guide. Very 
much of the charm in such a place lies in what we 
ourselves feel and inwardly see; for, 

*' From the soul itself must issue forth 
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, 
Of all sweet sounds the life and element." 

^^We receive but what we give," and are only 
enlarged by what we feel and apprehend. 



CONWAY. 47 



dlikj)tefV. 

CONWAY — ENGLAND — CHESTER — EATON HALL — MANUFACTURING 
DISTRICTS — WARWICK (THE CASTLE) — KENILWORTH CASTLE — 
STRATFORD - UPON - AVON — COUNTRY ABOUT IT — SHAKES- 
PEARE'S HOME. 

GOING from Bangor to Chester, our route lay- 
through Conway, one of the most charming of 
all the Welsh towns, lying in the midst, as it does, 
of picturesque scenery; its antique and curious 
houses surrounded by massive walls, which are 
flanked by embattled towers; and linked with the 
walls are the dismantled ruins of a magnificent 
castle. Around the town flows the Conway River, 
spanned by suspension-bridges, and altogether forms 
a picture of marvelous beauty. 

For some distance after leaving Conway, the rail- 
road seems disputing the boundaries of sea and land; 
so that in stormy weather, there must come sometimes 
a conflict between the sea-spray and the steam- 
engine, along here. Bays run up the valleys, and 
mountains push out into the sea; the train glides 
swiftly over one, and around the other. One moment 
we seem land-locked, and the next we look out on 
the broad Irish Sea, where white sails flutter in the 



48 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

wind, and steamers leave behind them long clouds 
of black smoke. Tucked away in cozy nooks of the 
green valleys, stand pretty sea-side cottages; and back 
along the rolling lands, modern castellated mansions. 
For some time before arriving at Chester, we left the 
mountains behind us, and passed over a low, level, 
uninteresting country; and the only thing to give the 
least animation to the scene are the small boats run- 
ning with freight on the river Dee. 

From this low, flat country, the old red-walled 
city of Chester looms up very prominently — both in 
its present aspect ahd its history so essentially a city 
of the past, that an antiquarian finds much to invite 
a prolonged stay ; a thing our plans did not admit of. 

However, we wandered under the arcaded walks; 
studied the strange devices on the gables and fronts 
of the old, old houses; and went to the celebrated 
Chester Cathedral, which is slowly undergoing re- 
pairs. We wandered among its curious monuments, 
and greatly admired the beautiful choir, completely 
restored, and fresh in its painting and gilding. 

From this, we went to visit the Church of St. 
John, that stands just outside the city walls, founded 
by Ethelred in 639. it has been, of course, several 
times restored; but portions of it are so old, moldy, 
and gray, they seemed the corner-stones of English 
history. 

A leaden sky, and frequent dashes of rain, did not 
seem promising for a visit to Eaton Hall; neverthe- 
less, it must not be left out of our programme. 



EATON HALL. 49 

Therefore, we took a carriage, crossed the grand, 
substantial bridge that spans the river Dee, entered 
the park, and drove for three or four miles among its 
venerable trees, broad avenues, and herds of grazing 
deer. 

The Hall — the ancestral seat of the Marquis of 
Westminster — long considered a fine specimen of 
early pointed Gothic, is being modernized. Conse- 
quently, we saw nothing save the exterior; but the 
place seemed a modern Eden: for both fine taste 
and unsparing resources had lavishly embellished the 
spot. Rare exotics from all lands bloomed amid the 
fountains and statues and fancifully trimmed shrub- 
bery. It all diffused an influence and impressions 
not easily described. 

From the front of the Hall, looking away, one 
gets a fine specimen of a genuine English landscape. 
The meadows are soft and velvety; the trees, singly 
and in groups, arranged with true artistic taste; and, 

''Here, one understands the better, ere the fall, 
How Adam lived in a garden. All the fields 
Are tied up fast with hedges, nosegay-like ; 
The hills are crumpled plains ; the plains parterres ; 
And if you look for any wilderness, 
You find at best a park — a nature tamed, 
And grown domestic." 

Having seen the principal objects of interest in and 
about Chester,^ we resumed our journey toward War- 
wick, going through a large number of those mean- 
looking towns, in what is called the ^'^ black country'' — 
appropriately named — a manufacturing district that 

4 



50 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Stretches along for miles; and, all the way, are 
crowded together innumerable streets of low, dark, 
dirty-looking brick tenements. On the tile roofs lay 
accumulated heaps of soot and mold. The viaduct 
railroad ran over the tops of the houses, so that we 
had a bird's-eye view; and this was quite sufficient. 

Every thing and every body is begrimed. Innu- 
merable tall chimneys loom up all along, belching 
forth great black clouds of smoke and flame, filling 
the air with dirt and darkness; thus giving one a 
picture outvying Dante's Inferno. There, literally, 
the people ^^ grind among the iron facts of life." 

After a time, we emerged from the smoke and 
darkness, and came into a fresh, green country, and 
stopped at the town of Warwick; of which one needs 
scarcely speak, since it is only an outgrowth or ap- 
pendage to the ancient castle, in which is centered the 
real interest of the place. The entrance to the castle 
grounds is very imposing. Lofty embattled walls and 
towers rise above the huge iron gate. At this we 
,^ rang the bell, and a good-natured, healthy-looking 
..woman approached, and bade us pass in. The av- 
enue was broad, and over it old patrician trees 
stretched their shadowy boughs. A massive stone 
wall stood on our right, and on our left a wall of 
primitive rocks, over which trailed pendants of ivy. 
There is about it all a look of somber but stately 
grandeur, of which the castle also in a measure par- 
takes, although it is architecturally plain. As we 
entered the great, clean court, at our right, high over 



WARWICK CASTLE. 5 1 

the walls, were two conspicuous towers, that bearing 
the ambitious title of *^ Caesar's Tower" rising about 
one hundred and fifty feet. 

After some little show of ceremony, we were ad- 
mitted to the castle, and shown through the long 
suit of apartments open to visitors. It was, however, 
tantalizing to be hurried through, as we were, by a 
stout waiting-woman, who ran over her well-conned 
lesson in a half-intelligible dialect. Among those 
accumulated treasures of many centuries, one would 
like to spend many days. As it was, we brought 
away with us only general impressions, and some 
distinct remembrances of a few choice pictures, 
vases, cabinets, statues, and mosaic tables — one es- 
pecially of rare merit, once in possession of Marie 
Antoinette. Through the windows, as we passed 
along, we caught impressive glimpses of park and 
garden, river and forest, that were charming and 
genuinely English. 

We came out into the court with heads full of 
splendid visions of palace-life, which were somewhat 
marred by the annoyance of the greedy dependents 
that came swarming about us. One wished the privi- 
lege of showing us the famous vase; another wanted 
us to climb the tower; another importuned us to go 
and see the armor of Giant Guy; and, of course, every 
one expected a generous fee. It might have done 
for once to be very magnanimous; but that is only 
one of a thousand places to visit, and one might as 
well at once steel their hearts against such /appeals. 



52 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

The fertile devices shown in Europe to extract 
money from travelers far surpasses all boasted 
Yankee ingenuity. 

It was toward the evening of a pleasant day we 
by carriage went out some three miles from Warwick, 
to visit the famous ruins of Kenilworth Castle. 
Running along a level, hedge-bordered road, we at 
length came to a small town lying at the foot of the 
castle, the latter being on elevated ground, and sur- 
rounded on three sides by a broad, spreading park. 
On that green mound, rising in gentle curves, stand, 
clearly defined against the sky, the huge walls, glass- 
less windows, broken arches, and crumbling towers 
of Kenilworth. The ivy winds its dark fold grace- 
fully over it; and the expression is gloomy, but 
grand, and mutely eloquent of its wrecked greatness. 
In poetic phrase, it may be thus appropriately 
responded to : 

" And thou art silent in thine age, 
Save when the wind sweeps by, and sounds are caught 
Ambiguous ; neither wholly thine, nor theirs. 
O, there is life that breathes not ; powers there are 
That touch each other to the quick, in modes 
The gross world hath no senses to perceive, 
No soul to dream of!" 

The soul that can see and feel such influences, 
may read whole volumes on this spot. What visions 
of marvelous splendor glow in the history of that 
castle ! The Wizard of the North has woven some 
of them in gorgeous, fadeless pictures, — so that who 
can stand on the spot without distinct visions of the 



STR ATFORD-U PON- A VON. 5 3 

brilliant and polished Lord Dudley, or the stately, 
imperious Queen Ehzabeth, coming with her courtly 
train; while up in yonder crumbling tower sits the 
trembling, heart-broken Amy Robsart, peeping out 
of the little grated window. 

As we look out on the green lawn, we see gaily- 
caparisoned horses, bestrode by knights in rich cos- 
tume, dash across, in tilt and tournament. All this 
we see with the inward eye, and are roused from 
our reverie by being told that, a little way across, 
stands before us the '^Forest of Arden," associated 
with Mary Arden, the mother of Shakespeare; and 
where were laid the scenes of ^^As You Like It." 

Weary with thinking, weary with looking, we were 
glad to hasten back to the ** Warwick Arms," our 
quaint hotel, in harmony with the scenes of the day. 
The heavy, ancient furniture of the house, the choice 
old china, the pompous, ceremonious bearing of the 
waiters, — all smacked of ^^ye olden time." 

Our trip for the next day was by carriage out to 
Stratford-upon-Avon. The broad road is bordered 
by hedges, shaded by great patriarchal trees; and 
thickly along the way stand houses or cottages of 
the Elizabethan Age, with the numerous crossings 
of dark wood. We drove past Sir Thomas Lucy's 
spacious park, from which the ^^ poacher" was 
driven; entered a beautiful chapel on his estate, 
to see the fine monument erected to the famous 
proprietor, who bears sometimes the unenviable 
appellation of ^^the persecutor of Shakespeare." 



54 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

As we left the church, and came near the town, 
there spread before us a magnificent panorama of 
far-reaching, sunny valleys, gentle hills, ^ fertile fields, 
groves, and great, spreading trees. The character- 
istics of the landscape being the same as in Shakes- 
peare^s boyhood, we could but question what share 
it had had in stimulating, molding, elevating the char- 
acter of the world's greatest thinker and singer, the 
'^Bard of Avon." We know all persons are influ- 
enced by associations and surroundings; but Shakes- 
peare seems to rise above all rules, and we are 
naturally inclined to place him without the pale of 
influences that affect men of common mold. 

However, in the grammar-school, and in the 
house where he was born, amidst the objects con- 
nected with his boyhood and manhood, he seems to 
assume a more decided personality and humanity; 
and we realize he is neither a god nor a myth, nor 
**such stuff as dreams are made of." By the great 
chimney stands the desk on which his school-boy 
fingers whittled and cut his name. In the corner of 
that cavernous fire-place we could imagine him sit- 
ting, in the long Winter evenings, conning his tasks, 
or absently gazing at the flickering flames, while 
weaving the fabric out of which came those marvels 
of wit and wisdom. 

In many ways, it is sure, his human wants, feel- 
ings, and frailties were no wise unlike his fellows. 
Love, too, fettered him as strongly, and his heart 
may have beaten as wildly for Ann Hathaway, as 



SHAKESPEARE'S TOMB. 55 

flutters the heart of any humble swain for his country 
lass. 

In the garden adjoining Shakespeare's house, we 
were permitted to pluck a few ivy-leaves and pansies. 
Then we went to the Church of the Holy Trinity, 
that stands on the banks of the Avon, and which we 
approached through a shady avenue of lime-trees. 
In front of the chancel, under the pavement, lie the 
bones which no one dares remove. Around the 
chancel run curiously carved stalls of an early date; 
and over Shakespeare's tomb the rich stained-glass 
windows pour a flood of rainbow hues. 

On our return, as we came out from the town, we 
took a last, lingering look over that English land- 
scape, so full of fertile beauty and fine effects, and 
we were reminded of the lines of Aurora Leigh, 
who says: 

" I view the ground most gently dimpled, 
As if God's finger touched, but did not press, 
In making England. Such an up and down, 
A ripple of land. Such little hills ; the sky 
Can stoop so tenderly; the wheat-fields climb 
Such nooks of valleys, lined with orchises, 
So full of noises of invisible streams, 
And open pastures, where you scarce can tell 
White daisies from white dew. At intervals 
The mythic oak and elm-tree, standing out 
Self-poised upon their prodigy of shade, — 
I thought my father's land was 
Worthy being my Shakespeare's." 



56 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dl(kf)tef VI. 



i 



LONDON — TRAFALGAR SQUARE — HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT — HOW 
IT IMPRESSED US — NATIONAL ART-GALLERY — TURNER — 
GUST AVE DORE — TABLEAUX VIVANT — HYDE PARK — HAMP- 

• TON COURT — TWICKENHAM — RICHMOND HILL — WINDSOR 
CASTLE — SrOKE-POGIS CHURCH. 

ON our first visit to London, we landed at 
Charing Cross Station, and coming at once 
upon Trafalgar Square, where lies the British lion 
guarding Nelson's Monument, we got our first im- 
pressions of places and names long familiar, such 
as Fleet Street, Pall Mall, and so on. At our right 
stood the National Art-gallery. Descending from 
the center of the square, we saw the street leading 
to the two objects that, next to a comfortable stop- 
ping-place, we wished first to find; namely, West- 
minster Abbey and the House of Parhament. After 
securing the former, we made it our next business to 
find those places of interest. Going down toward 
them, we passed the head-quarters of the Horse 
Guards, where, on either side the great gate that 
opens into the court, sit always the sentinels — living 
statues, mounted on black horses — dressed in scarlet 
coats, their heads surmounted by those tall bear-skin 
caps. They look painfully uncomfortable in Summer 



HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT. 57 

days. Near this quarter is White Hall, of stirring 
memories. 

To satisfy curiosity, we first made a hasty visit to 
Westminster Abbey, getting only confused impres- 
sions. We then came out, and walked across the 
street, toward the House of Parliament. One of 
those great, tawny London fogs was rolling its clouds 
about it, so that we got no clear ideas of its im- 
pressive grandeur. The sun overhead was swimming 
in smoke and fog j but the red, fiery ball shot through 
some stray beams, that touched the thousand gilded 
points and pinnacles on the top of the tall building, 
so that the whole seemed a mirage of Oriental 
splendor. 

Afterward, on a brighter day, we walked about it, 
'^telling the towers thereof," marking well its elab- 
orate finish and gilded ornaments. The ground on 
which it stands seemed low; and the stately, aristo- 
cratic pile, with the attendant pomp, caused us to 
remember with increasing admiration our National 
Capitol, so beautiful for situation, with its extended 
views, its freedom of atmosphere — a place where all 
may go and come, at their good pleasure. 

We were so annoyed with the contracted priv- 
ileges of that English Parliament-house, we became 
quite indifferent whether we saw any thing but the 
externals. However, we did get a look into the 
House of Commons when they were not in session ; 
and once or twice crowded into the little sheep-fold 
in one corner of the House of Lords, where, packed 



58 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and uncomfortable, we were permitted to stand and 
peep over an iron railing at their bewigged lordships. 
We, however, did not long retain this wondrous 
privilege, preferring to go back to the grand en- 
trance, where, in either side, are ranged fine statues 
of distinguished statesmen and orators. We found it 
pleasanter, in freedom, to study the forms and faces 
of such men as Burke, Chatterton, Pitt, Fox, Curran, 
and others, than trying, under difiiculties, to get a 
stray glance at living potentates. 

Coming out from this hall, at our right we went into 
St. Stephen's Hall, whose great carved roof sta,nds 
unsupported by any pillars; and whose marvelous 
histories, running back some five hundred years, 
throw about it a certain air of interest. Thickly 
along, on our right, were ranged statues of kings fa- 
mous for good or bad deeds; opposite were numerous 
rooms and offices, from which emerged many barris- 
ters, in long, narrow, black silk gowns, and upon 
their heads gray, closely curled wigs. This miserable 
transformation rendered it difficult, by looking at 
their faces, to tell ' ^ what manner of men they were 
of;" nor could we any better tell, by seeing those 
wigs and faces rising above the straight-backed pews 
in which they sat in the Courts of Chancery or Com- 
mon Pleas. We like our true republican idea of 
making the man overshadow surroundings and 
adornments. As we came out in the sunlight, and 
looked up at the gray stone walls of the House 
of Parliament, we saw that, although it has stood 



TURNER'S PICTURES. 59 

but a little over thirty years, it begins to crumble 
a little, while moisture and smoke are staining it 
with complementary shades that bring it more in 
harmony with its neighbor, the Old Abbey. 

Our next visit we made to the National Gallery 
of Fine Arts, where, among quite a large number of 
indifferent pictures, were some choice ones that I re- 
member with much pleasure. There were some 
mirth-provoking Wilkies, some exquisite Jan Steens, 
Teniers, and others. Rembrandt has some very 
striking ones; but the one I remember with most 
distinctness is Correggio's ^^Ecce Homo," and a head 
of exquisite beauty by Sassoferatto. 

To me, however, after reading Ruskin, the great 
interest of the gallery centered in the large number 
of Turner's works, hanging as arranged by the critic. 
It seems to me that every one, at first sight, must be 
greatly disappointed in Turner's pictures. They are 
a mere chaotic mass of light and shadow — confused 
splendors of brilliant colors, magnificent skies, mov- 
ing clouds, and expansive landscapes of wood and 
water, mountain and plain, apparently without form 
or order, productions of a strong, original mind, that 
seems far more intellectual than emotional in its 
character. And, save in his moving clouds, and the 
depth of his skies, to me he seems not to catch ,pr 
portray the symphonies of nature; and that I felt no 
tender sympathy with him, is perhaps owing to in- 
abihty to appreciate. The prince of critics assures 
us they have every excellence; and I hold myself 



60 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

ready to be convinced, though at present I confess I 
am not. 

At the Kensington Gardens Museum, I had a 
feast in the large number of Landseer's pictures. 
Such truthful, perfect animals as he gives us ! But yet 
their animal nature seems refined by good fare and 
kind treatment. And between the ' ' high and low- 
life" of his '^Twa Dogs," the distinctions are made 
as broad as, in the mind of the artist, they were in 
the human family. We can excuse this aristocratic 
distinction in animals, since he never gives any thing 
repulsive, or grossly disagreeable. 

We might mention favorably many pictures in the 
Kensington collection, where are Constable's, David 
Wilkie's, Benjamin West's ^^Last Supper," and a fine 
collection of water-colors. In fact, we found, after 
spending three days in that museum, we only desired 
the more to go again. 

One of the great centers of attraction in London, 
as is well known, is the gallery in New Bond Street, 
composed of Gustave Dore's pictures. His ^^ Christ 
Leaving the Pretorium" is, I think justly, considered 
one of the grandest works of modern times. In size 
it is twenty by thirty feet. Each corner of the pic- 
ture is filled by a motley group. In the center is a 
platform, from which' descend several steps; in the 
foreground, a stalwart figure, bearing a huge cross. 
Back of this, half-way doAvn the steps, comes Christ, 
robed in white, and crowned with thorns. The 
figure is full of majesty and dignified movement; 



I 



GUSTAVE DORE. 6 1 

and there is a godlike exaltation expressed in the 
face, almost at the sacrifice of tenderness. At the 
right-hand corner, near the steps, stands the Virgin 
Mary, with a face full of purity, sweetness, and ex- 
treme sorrow. Kneeling by the Mother is Mary 
Magdalene ; and on either side a rabble rout, among 
whom the very spirit of all evil and demoniac rage 
seems let loose. The figures have the muscular de- 
velopment and power of Michael Angelo's, and in 
their varied features and expressions portray all the 
malign passions that ever haunted the human breast. 
The perspective in the background of the picture is 
effective; the sky is dark and gloomy, as also the 
surroundings : so that the light and glory of the 
whole picture centers in, and beams from, the ' ' Sun 
of righteousness." 

There are many wonderful pictures, some of 
which, to us, were no wise pleasant in impression. 
But some we are glad to keep fresh in our memory : 
such as ^^ Paolo,'' ^^Francesca di Rimini," two fine 
figures floating through a fiery sky, thoroughly 
Dantean in its impress; a pleasant and prominent 
picture called '^Alsace,"— a French peasant girl, 
with sweet face, closed eyes, and an expression of 
firm, undying love for her nation's flag, grasps it 
firmly in her hand. 

Dore's rustic beauties have not the refined look 
of Landell's; but as a landscapist he is truly great, 
and shows not only appreciation of grand physical 
forms, but that he sees and feels the deep, mysterious 



62 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

spirit that dwells in the mystic mountains, and 
weaves it, by color and skillful handling, into the 
organic essense. Dore is a perfect cosmopolite in 
art, drawing subjects from all themes, and from 
many lands. 

Another gallery, that interested us very much, is 
at the residence of the Earl of Ellesmere, called the 
^ ^ Bridgewater Collection." In the large gallery are 
very many choice gems of the Flemish school — 
Mieris, Terburg, Teniers — of great beauty, and 
Gerard Dow's masterpieces. A ''Dutch Burgo- 
master," by Rembrandt, I think, might be classed 
among his most intensely characteristic productions. 

In the drawing-room and private apartments were 
gathered the gems of the fine collection. There are 
three Raphaels, there are Titians, Guidps — but I cease 
to enumerate. While enjoying the pictures, we took 
much interest in observing the quaint furniture and 
many choice objects of virtu; and cautiously peered 
into the fine library-rooms, where the doors stood in- 
vitingly open, but occupied by some of the family. 
I rather fear some of our party, by loud talk, 
brought upon us the censure so often deservedly 
• given us ±>y foreigners. Their more quiet manners 
and softer tones of voice are well worthy our im- 
itation. 

Of the ''Tableaux Vivant," the streets and-parks 
of London present many and varied ones, — walking 
concerts, bands of minstrels "a T' Africaine, " who 
sing and, by turns, perform many gymnastic feats. 



HYDE PARK. 63 

There are string-bands, who wander about, living on 
gratuitous contributions. Marionettes and Punch- 
and-Judy shows seem always in high favor, . proving a 
comical vein runs in the apparently cold blood of 
the EngHsh. 

In the fashionable season come the daily pageants 
at Hyde Park, where, about three o'clock, begin to 
gather, for an exhibition, the accumulated representa- 
tives of fashion and high life with which the city 
then teems. Rotten Row is quite alive with eques- 
trians. Ladies and gentlemen dash over the soft soil 
on thorough-bred English, or fleet, graceful Arabian 
steeds. Soldiers mounted on high-mettled cavalry- 
horses; and old gentlemen on strongly-built hard- 
trotters, — seem all alike enjoying the airing. But the 
farce of the exhibition is in the carriage-drive: 
Droskies, or dog-carts, with gentlemen driving, and 
servants in flaunting livery, with folded arms, sitting 
behind; large, open carriages of modern style, filled 
with fine fashionable ladies, carriages drawn by 
Spanish blooded or handsome English bay horses, al- 
ways so thoroughly groomed, and stepping with a 
proud air — the servants in powdered wigs, gay vest- 
ments, knee-breeches, and white stockings, wearing 
their honors with an air of wondrous consequence 
and solemn expression; then some great, lumbering, 
heavy-wheeled vehicles, that have been handed down 
from generation to generation, like the titles of the 
owners. These carriages are glaring in yellow paint, 
gilt, and armorial emblems. Powdered lackeys, in 



64 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

gorgeous livery, and some looking ^Wery seedy," sit 
sometimes before and behind, while the body of the 
carriage is often occupied by solid, aristocratic-look- 
ing men, and puffy-looking ladies, generally dressed 
in bad taste, and very homely. One looks long, and 
often in vain, for a type of such sweet, beautiful 
faces as are found hanging on the walls at Hamtpon 
Court, painted by Sir Peter Lely. 

It is amusing to sit, by the hour, and watch the 
crowded procession file, in slow and solemn state, up 
one side of the popular drive, and down the other. 
No ■ one sees a smile on their faces, or a nod of 
recognition; and wherein consists the enjoyment is 
hard to see, since there is not even the pleasure of a 
gentle trot. 

Then there are other shows, when some of the 
royal family deign to ride in state through the street, 
and give their gracious presence to the opening of 
some museum or benevolent institution, and the 
papers are full of the wonderful event. We confess 
the first sight dazzled somewhat our republican eyes. 
But these pompous cereijonies and stilted manners 
seem only an absurd burlesque, especially when one 
hears the gossip, and sees such convincing evidence 
that royal blood, however thick, is too often exceed- 
ingly impure, and those high dignitaries exceedingly 
human and imperfect. So we cling to our early 
ideas, that high intellectual endowments, true moral 
purity, and high spiritual worth are the only shrines at 
which we should pay homage. Meantime, we would 



HAMPTON COURT. 6$ 

'^cast the beam out of our own eyes," and acknowl- 
edge that in our country there is a not less sense- 
less worship of money and fashion — a substitute for 
royalty on the part of some; but there is generally 
a sound element of republican simplicity and Puri- 
tan leaven, that we feel will in time work clear our 
social, moral, and spiritual atmosphere. 
* In order to see all phases of English life, we went 
out, on a great holiday, to see the thousands of the 
lower working-classes, that assembled at Regent's 
Park and on Primrose Hill for a day of recreation. 
One marked feature was, that every man seemed to 
have his whole family with him, even down to the 
babies. They entered into the game of cricket, and 
other sports, with a heartiness seldom witnessed in 
our country, especially by middle-aged and old men. 
Though in the full tide of sport, they were not 
boisterous, but a subdued yet hearty enjoyment 
seemed to prevail; though we expected, in crowds 
where the animal nature seemed to preponderate, we 
should see somewhat indecorous rudeness. 

We are sure a similar class in our country would 
be far more noisy; but they would look more cleanly 
in dress and person, and look brighter and more in- 
telligent. We recognized there many characters with 
whom Dickens has made us familiar. 

To vary our observations and pleasures, we took 
several trips into the country. Among the pleasant- 
est, we number a day at Hampton Court. Taking 
train at Waterloo Station, we were in an hour set 

5 



66 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

down near the lodge at the entrance of the grounds. 
As we passed in, at our right stood a forest, called 
•^The Mazes." In advance of us was seen a nicely 
kept park, adorned with shrubbery, flowers, statuary, 
vases, fountains, pleasant .walks, soft green lawns, 
through which ran long avenues of Hme-trees and 
elms. These have, from generation to generation, 
been trimmed. This somewhat diminished their 
grace; but gave a sort of well-bred, dignified look 
to the aristocratic place. 

The palace, of red brick, is very spacious; but 
has a weather-beaten, gloomy look. We entered 
through clean-swept courts, passed up Wolsey's 
Grand Staircase, and then rambled leisurely through 
the long suits of apartments; examined the faded 
frescoes, looked at the pictures, the curiously carved 
wreaths of wood-flowers that adorn the walls, the 
heavy old furniture, worm-eaten tapestry and bed- 
hangings, and many old portraits and pictures; and 
we thought how the social groups had once gathered 
around those great, yawning fire-places, and of the 
courtly trains that had swept through the grand 
apartments, when Cardinal Wolsey, in the full ex- 
ercise of his power, held those costly banquets, 
during his ** Summers in a sea of glory." 

Leaving Hampton Court, we took lunch in Busby 
Park, a sort of gypsy encampment-ground for lovers 
of out-door life ; and many merry groups daily gather 
there. After lunch, we took carriages for a ride that 
proved every way enjoyable. Our way through the 



WINDSOR CASTLE. 6/ 

park was by a broad avenue, along the borders of 
which were groups of horse-chestnut trees, elms, and 
great sturdy beeches, of astonishing size. We passed 
over Richmond Hill, from which is seen one of the 
richest and most charming views in all England. 
On our pleasant route, we passed Lord Russell's 
lodge; also the former home of Horace Walpole; 
Pope's villa; as well as the former home of Louis 
Philippe, and the present home of several French 
nobles — among them Due d'Aumale, son of Louis 
Philippe. They surely could not find a greener spot 
than the ones chosen. 

Another excursion every one must and does make, is 
to the Crystal Palace. It is a place that must be seen, 
but can not well be described. A third is Windsor 
Castle. A good-sized town might be screened within 
those heavy gray walls. The Palace stands high, in 
the midst of a home park of about two thousand 
acres. There is on all sides a perfect wealth of 
beauty; and beyond this lie sunny slopes and forests, 
and towns and places of interest: such as the place 
of the scene of Shakespeare's '' Merry Wives;" 
**Runnymede," where the famous ^^ Magna Charta" 
was signed; the spot where Izaak Walton angled, and 
dreamed his day-dreams; and almost under the 
shadow of the palace walls stands Eton College. 

The interior of the palace must be seen with such 
undignified haste that no satisfactory impressions are 
received, or can be given to others. At the entrance 
hall, a servant, in scarlet and gilt lace, received our 



68 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

tickets, in stately silence; another passed us to the 
audience-chamber; a fourth, whose breath was odor- 
ous of beer or whisky, led us on, locking each door 
behind us as we passed. Spacious apartments, pic- 
tures, had to be taken in at a glance, and the ear 
all the while strained to catch the rapid explana- 
tions. The sights dwell in the mind like a confused 
dream. 

After visiting St. George's Chapel and the Royal 
Mews, we took carriages for Stoke-Pogis church, a 
distance of five miles, along a pleasant country road 
bordered by hedges. We passed a short distance 
beyond the little hamlet, stopped at a wicket-gate, 
and entered a meadow. Under the trees, on a 
prominent knoll near the entrance, is a massive 
stone monument to the poet Gray. On the entabla- 
ture of each side are quotations from his poems, 
that breathe the very spirit of the place. A little 
way across the meadow stands the old ^^ country 
church," scene of the immortal ^^ Elegy." We ap- 
proached it by a narrow foot-path, that was bordered 
by laburnums, and scattered thick with daisies. 

The church is built of pebbles, and has a red- 
tiled roof, very quaint gables, and a tall, ivy-mantled 
tower, where, as of yore, 

" The moping owl does to the moon complain." 

Over the gables the ivy spreads in broad masses, 
and droops by the long windows. Elms and yew- 
trees cluster about this ^^ country church-yard;" and 



STOKE-POGIS CHURCH. 69 

the ^'heaving turf" and moss-covered monuments lie 
in their dark, solemn shadows. 

The impressive silence is broken only by bird- 
notes; and it chanced, as we entered this abode of 
the dead, that 

" Nigh to a grave, that was newly made, 
Leaned a sexton old, on his earth-worn spade." 

Like the ivy and the yew, the sexton was an essen- 
tial feature in the scene, a sad link between the past 
and the present. 

The interior of the church is extremely antiquated. 
Among the tablets on the walls is one to the father 
and son of William Penn, all natives of Pogis, and 
among those of whom Gray says : 

" Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." 

Near the front wall, by the grave of Gray, we 
plucked ivy-leaves ; and then wandered back through 
the meadow. And, again taking our carriages, it was 
interesting to me to be told by the driver that, two 
years before, he took Governor Seward and party to 
the same place. The latter needed not to go there 
to learn how truly, as Gray says : 

*' The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. 
Await alike the inevitable hour : 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 



70 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



Cl(kj)tef VII. 

LONDON — IMPRESSIONS OF ITS VASTNESS— -PROMINENT OBJECTS 
OF INTEREST — ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL — TOMB OF WELLING- 
TON — MONUMENTS — WESTMINSTER ABBEY — REFLECTIONS — 
TEMPLE CHURCH — ST. GILES — MILTON — BETHNAL GREEN. 

A SECOND visit to London, and many weeks 
of sight-seeing, are necessary to a comprehen- 
sion of the vast city. And the more we saw, the 
greater our astonishment at its extent, its intermina- 
ble streets, its great blocks of solid buildings, its 
massive, time-defying bridges, its great palaces and 
churches. 

Let one stand on Westminster Bridge, or any of 
the great thoroughfares, looking down on the swift- 
plying boats passing under it, and contemplate the 
moving spectacle of cabs, carts, omnibuses, in the 
streets, mingled with which moves the great, surging, 
seething tide of humanity, which together, in their 
progress, send through the city a roar like the great, 
deep undertone of the ocean in a storm; and there 
comes in it an influence to deeply move head and 
heart. We felt irresistibly swept on with the tide — 
nerve and brain stretched to the utmost tension. 

It seems to us the blessings of the Sabbath, with 



ENGLISH CHARACTER. 7 1 

its quiet and rest, never comes more gratefully, or 
falls with more solemn, impressive silence, than in 
that great, noisy world. How pleasant to us it was 
to see the shutters of the shops and stores going up 
every Saturday afternoon at three o'clock, and a rest- 
ful quiet begin to steal over the city! What an 
admirable idea, too, for clerks and merchants, shop- 
men and laborers, to have a breathing-time, and 
more healthy preparation for Sabbath enjoyments! 
We would like to see it imitated here. 

I think one of the most impressive phases pre 
sented to us, was the hush, the profound silence, that 
marks the early Sabbath morning, ^^when all that 
mighty heart is lying still," ^^and e'en the very 
houses are asleep.'' We felt the influence deeply, by 
the broad week-day contrast, and we felt it still more 
by contrast to our Continental Sabbath experiences. 

In connection with these thoughts and feelings, we 
were led to mark the good and bad points of Enghsh 
character. We had, in our last visit, come direct 
to London from Paris, and were fresh with admira- 
tion of the pleasant demeanor of the polite, sprightly, 
versatile, graceful Parisians, who are so full of the 
out-door sunshine in which they live; and the Lon- 
doners seemed sullen, cold, and gloomy as their 
foggy, smoky atmosphere, and their air of arrogance 
and self-satisfaction seemed doubly offensive and 
obtrusive. 

We knew, however, that under this disagreeable 
exterior was often concealed admirable character, the 



72 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

basis of which is a deep, sincere Christianity, and 
high and true regard for home and domestic enjoy- 
ments. As a people, they love much to nestle down 
in the midst of their own families, it seems to me, 
and keep their hearts and interests incased within the 
walls of their houses. This very habit, in a sense 
commendable, nourishes, perhaps, the selfish and 
narrow views that characterize the English. There 
is, however, a deep Christian element in that land, 
and an apparent increase in the spirit of philanthropy, 
a waking up to the wants of the poor, and a desire 
to see their mental and spiritual condition improved. 
One of the great evils that is sapping the foundation 
of all good there, is intemperance. And one of the 
most shocking features of that is, at groggeries, rail- 
road stations, hotels, to see women standing behind 
the bars selling liquor, and the almost universal 
indulgence by men, women, and youths. This is 
by no means confined to the lower and middle 
classes. Much intemperate indulgence is evident 
among the higher classes, and among ladies. Surely, 
this is a terrible blot on a Christian people. 

Of the great city of London, one can speak only 
of a few salient points; and to most persons, doubt- 
less, the object of primal interest is Westminster 
Abbey, the great Walhalla of the British nation, so 
often described, yet never understood until one feels 
the spell that actual contact brings. As we entered 
the transept, with a crowd of haunting memories 
pressing upon us, and a crowd of monuments on 



ill 




WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 73 

either hand, I felt oppressed and confused. I turned 
to the right, followed down the '4ong-drawn aisles," 
among the tombs and tablets, recrossed the transept, 
and wandered among the musty chapels where is 
deposited the dust of royalty — now mere dust, and 
nothing more — all that remains of once powerful 
kings and queens, who had ruled the nation in wis- 
dom or in weakness. There, too, were sainted bishops 
who had illuminated the world by their pure spiritual 
presence, and some who had rancorously persecuted 
those who had dared to differ in faith from the Es- 
tablished Church. The influences of each of their 
lives is garlanded about their names, and I read them 
as stray leaves from the chronicles of human joy or 
sorrow. All that was before seemingly fictitious 
became invested with human personality. 

There is, however, a more cheerful side to the 
picture; and, aside from despots and overzealous 
ecclesiastics, are other monuments to the truly good 
and harmlessly great. They stand in the Poet's 
Corner, where the light of the great rose-window 
falls so rich, and almost warms into life the speaking 
marble faces. Here one finds many pleasantly sug- 
gestive objects, that touch the heart tenderly, kindle 
the fancy, and set many a sweet strain singing in 
the memory. 

Passing on through the Poet's Corner, a dark 
passage leads to an open court. Around this square 
court runs a vaulted corridor, that is grim, gray, and 
crumbhng. Under its pavement molders the dust 



74 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

of successive generations. Along the walls are 
tablets, statues, canopies that the tooth of time has 
gnawed away — nicely cut features have turned to 
mummies — and names erased; so that one finds only 
broken fragments from the wreck of the past. Every 
object but sends the thoughts back among the dead 
centuries, and the ^^soul grows gray" in their midst. 

Standing in the solemn silence of that sepulchral 
place, there comes a subdued murmur of the sound 
of the great throng that, just outside the abbey 
walls, go hurrying by, in eager pursuit of business 
or pleasure; and, amid those scenes, sad impressions 
come to burden the heart. What, I asked, after all, 
are the tombs and tablets, but sermons on the frailty 
of humanity^ the vanity of riches, and the emptiness 
of a little brief renown? All this multitude, that 
dazzled the world with their pomp and glitter, lie 
moldering in the shadowy empire of death, their 
bodies and bones crumbled to ashes, and their mon- 
uments to dust — even their names forgotten. And 
this is the end of a boasted immortality ! 

We of to-day, full of our own plans and wishes, 
have no time to Stop to spell out the faded names 
and pages of the past generations ; and we rush ruth- 
lessly on, while there comes sometimes a warning 
voice, saying our lives, too, '^will soon be as a tale 
that is told." This is among the lessons and impres- 
sions we brought with us from Westminster Abbey. 

One of the most curious old churches we found 
in London is at Temple Bar, called Temple Church, 



ST. GILES. 75 

built in 1 1 13; circular in form, and entered by a 
circular vestibule; the floor laid in ancient tile, with 
quaint emblems. The light comes down from the 
dome — the latter supported by columns of Purbeck 
marble. The arms of the pews are heavily and curi- 
ously carved, and objects of interest. 

Under the pavement lie the bones of some of the 
knights of olden time; and above them, on the 
pavement, lie the figures, in full armor, their faces 
nearly covered with the morion, their hands pressed 
together as if in prayer, and their legs crossed, to 
show they had been engaged in the Holy War. 
There is something about these figures of the Cru- 
saders always tinged with romance, they mingled 
with their religion so much of enthusiasm, poetry, 
and chivalrous honor. We will let them rest in 
peace, passing over all defects. 

Pursuing our way from Temple Church beyond St. 
PauFs, in a cobwebbed portion of the old city, in 
Cripplegate Street, stands the Church of St. Giles — a 
plain edifice, with a nave and two aisles. Under 
the nave John Milton was buried; and in the right 
aisle is a monument of Milton, with a fine marble 
bust. It represents him as an old man, his face 
deeply seamed with care and thought. Fox, the 
martyrologist, also has a tomb here. 

The church was restored over one hundred years 
ago. At one corner stands a square tower, that is 
said to have held its present position over nine hun- 
dred years. Adjoining the church-yard is a bastion 



76 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

of the old Roman wall that once inclosed the city. 
Not far from this spot, in Bread Street, Cheapside, 
resided Milton's father; and there the poet was born. 
Near by is King Street, where Edmund Spenser is 
said to have died for lack of bread. Just in this 
neighborhood Shakespeare's house is marked; and 
all about are places of historical interest. Here, 
now, banks and shops abound, and the busy hum of 
trade is heard on all hands. 

Beyond this, on the eastern border, lies one of 
the plague-spots of London, where sin festers and 
spreads like a deadly upas. This Bethnal Green, 
either from motives of policy or philanthropy, or 
both, is being brought under Christianizing and re- 
fining influences. Among other plans was that of 
establishing a museum in the midst; and Sir Richard 
Wallace, a whole-souled man, has lent his extensive 
gallery of choice pictures to the art department. 
This, more than any thing else could, draws through 
that polluted region thousands of the rich and noble, 
and thus is forced upon their notice sights that must 
stir their hearts to active measures for reform. 

There is little satisfaction in reading descriptions 
of pictures that one has never seen. And of the 
seven hundred and thirty-six choice pictures in this 
collection, one would not know where to begin, or 
where to end, since nearly all of the most renowned 
artists of the world are here represented. There are, 
of the number, eight Murillos; and the comprehensive 
grasp and versatility of his powers is . seen in the 



ST. PAUL'S. TJ 

variety of the subjects. Among them is one of his 
laughing, roguish-looking ^^ Beggar Boys;" and by 
his side hangs the picture of the Virgin, in ^^The 
Annunciation." This is the very essense of purity, 
angelic sweetness, and inspired beauty. 

Not far from the Murillos is one of Rembrandt's 
best pictures, ^^The Unmerciful Servant," an illus- 
tration of the Parable in Matthew xviii. Among the 
many that were indelibly stamped on my mind, were 
some of Ary Schaeffer. They were full of poetical 
sentiment and spiritualized impressions. 

In the French school were several, I remember, 
by Paul Delaroche, some of which were peculiarly 
marked by elevated thought and glowing fancy. The 
^^ Repose in Egypt" is a fine conception, and over 
it is thrown a warm, mellow light, a thoroughly 
tropical glow. 

Among the little gems I was guilty of coveting, 
were a charming candle-light effect, by Schalken, of 
the Dutch school; one also by Gerard Dow, called 
•'St. Anthony in Prayer." He was kneeling before 
a table; an unearthly glow encircled his head, and 
beamed on his face; on the table before him was an 
open book, an hour-glass, and a skull. 

Most conspicuous of all objects in London has 
Sir Christopher Wren placed his crowning monument 
on Ludgate Hill. First to catch the rising sun 
stands the great dome of St. Paul's, too immense to 
be comprehended; for mere figures give no correct 
conception of its impressive greatness. It must be 



78 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

seen in its grand proportions, rising from out the pall 
of smoke that, with time and dust, has marked and 
streaked the once fine marble. 

Under the proud dome are sheltered many of the 
nation's heroes, and greatest among them, to all 
English minds, is Wellington. We went down into 
the crypt, where the ^^ darkness is made visible" by 
lighted candles. Wellington's funeral-car, cast from 
cannon captured on many a bloody battle-field, is elab- 
orately decorated, and shrouded in hangings of black 
velvet, as are also the horses, made in imitation of 
those that carried his car to his final resting-place., 

This dimly lighted crypt has a funereal gloom, in 
painful contrast to the light, cheerful, and even fas- 
cinating spot, wherein the French have laid their 
nation's hero, Napoleon I. 



THE TOWER. 79 



ditkptef VIII. 

THE TOWER — ITS IMPRESSIONS — VICTIMS — MARTYRDOMS — SUG- 
GESTIONS — LATIMER AND RIDLEY — PREACHERS OF THE 
PRESENT DAY — SPURGEON — NEWMAN HALL — DR. PARKER — 
DR. GUMMING. 

OF all places in and about London, we expected 
to be most solemnly impressed by a visit to 
the Tower. That we failed, is perhaps partly because 
we live in an age of such startling tragic events that 
past horrors take no hold upon us, and the pictures 
of our early years have lost their power to astonish 
us, even when we stand amid the relics of those 
tragic days. 

From our pleasant quarters at the West End we 
had many miles to go to reach the Tower, which we 
found standing amid the thickly populous portion of 
the old city proper; and yet a thing apart, inclosed 
within its great, heavy, gray walls, from behind and 
above which rise the innumerable towers that have 
been added by successive sovereigns — round towers 
and square towers, low towers and tall ones, at- 
tached to a congregation of castles; the latter linked 
together by long corridors, dark passages, and inter-^ 
vened by numerous grassy courts, that, all together, 
spread over some twelve acres. 



80 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

We knew that, at different periods, there had cen- 
tered many of the most gorgeous pageants, as well 
as some of the gloomiest tragedies, that mark the 
pages of English history, and our heads were full of 
these memories, that gathered intensity as we stood 
among the little companies gathering in the waiting- 
room. Our imagination, however, was somewhat 
rudely jostled by the scenes around us. Behind 
counter stood nice-looking women, selling cake anc 
pies, and all kinds of liquors. Their patronage was 
very generous while we observed them. 

Finally, we were divided into little companies, 
each headed by a clownish-looking individual dresses 
according to prescribed custom, with a long frock- 
coat trimmed with gilt lace, a full, high ruff about 
the neck, ' and the head covered by a huge belli 
crowned hat. 

We entered a broad gate, followed, over the 
rough cobble-stone pavement, through the courts and 
dark apartments, up dark and narrow stairs, around 
the towers and places of dismal histories. Our 
guide, with lugubrious countenance, and voice of 
mock solemnity, bade us look up to the tower where 
the two hapless little princes were smothered. We 
obeyed; but not a tear started in our eyes. Were 
we hardened by the daily recital of murders in the 
present age? Then came the Traitor's Gate, with its 
heavily spiked portcullis; and, in solemn tones, the 
guide ran on with some horrid recital, which we 
failed to catch connectedly. We felt, meantime, no 



"CHAMBER OF HORRORS." 8 1 

unusual emotions. That gate should have been a 
terror to evil-doers; but, alas! traitors have greatly 
multiplied, and huge gates and prison-doors fail to 
intimidate, when conscience fails in its good offices. 

We passed through a long hall, where, in double 
row, on either side, were ranged ^'skeletons in 
armor;" horses, with all their warlike equipments; 
knights and kings, in coat-of-mail ; the great, burly 
frame of Henry VIII ; the stately figure of Charles 
I, on his heavily caparisoned steed, and his own 
richly gilded coat-of-mail, gift of his subjects, — and 
so on ran the recital of many things that might have 
been interesting, but another loud yoice rang out 
from under another bell-crowned hat to another 
company near us: so that, between the two, we lost 
pretty much all. 

However, we followed voice and bell-crown hat, — 
first, *^up~stairs, down-stairs, and in the lady's cham- 
ber," where Lady Jane Grey and other noted unfor- 
tunates had been incarcerated; then to the '^chamber 
of horrors," where was a great array of implements 
of torture. There was the veritable hacked and 
haggled block on which the hapless victims had laid 
their necks; and the great, broad, heavy, wicked- 
looking executioner's ax, that had cut off so many 
doomed heads. This, we confess, was a horridly 
sad reminder of times worse than the present. 

Out of this room opened a little, low, arched 
door, where we were invited to stoop and enter. 
We did so, and stood half-bent in the darkness, and 

6 



82 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

crept out again, when we were informed in that mis- 
erable den Sir Walter Raleigh dwelt for twelve years. 
Just to think of that scholar, poet, and prince of 
refinement and courtly manners, never in all that 
time being able to stand erect! We wonder if it 
is true. 

We passed through immense apartments, where 
were tremendous stores of arms, and where workmen 
were polishing and finishing warlike implements. 
We fancied there was a sort of wicked glow on their 
fat, red faces, as they looked toward us Americans; 
for the Alabama claims were then being arbitrated 
at Geneva. 

We left them still polishing their weapons; only 
hoping they may be never otherwise used. We de- 
scended steep, dark stairways, and came out on the 
green grass; and were led to the spot where many 
royal heads had fallen, and royal blood flowed; and 
sun and rain will never efface the stains. We felt a 
pang of sympathy for human suffering; but by no 
means the intense thrill of feeling that stirred our 
hearts when standing near the spots where great and 
good men had voluntarily borne tortures, flames, and 
death, for the exaltation of their race and establish- 
ment of the true faith. 

Before this, we had been at Oxford; and we have 

visited no place that so touched us as the little stone 

cross, lying on a level with the pavement, in front 

"^ of Baliol College, Oxford, where Cranmer, Latimer, 

and Ridley were burned alive. To meet death 



REV. CHARLES SPURGEON. 83 

heroically, when there is no alternative, has often 
been done; but to subject one's self to martyrdom for 
the good of others and the establishment of principle : 
this calls forth our highest admiration, and we yield 
them our supreme respect. We marvel at their 
courage; but God nerved them to the fulfillment of 
their grand mission, and the fires by which their 
faith was purified, like vestal lamps, are forever 
burning on the altar of true religion. And this sub- 
lime faith, tried by fire, has proved the most effective 
sermon these martyrs ever preached. 

God works in a mysterious way, and now and 
then raises up men to further his purposes. All 
along the great highway of the past they stand as 
beacon-lights, shining down through the ages, and 
extending their influence to all nations. As much 
to-day as long ago, they are giving encouragement 
to the weak, strength to the weary, and faith to the 
faltering. 

The present is not a martyr age; yet it is one 
when men of high moral courage and great spiritual 
purity are wanted to stem the strong tide of worldli- 
ness, and to lay bare the foundations of vice and 
secret corruptions, hid under beguiling masks. One 
of the men eminently adapted to such work, and for 
the wants of the present day in London, is Rev. 
Charles Spurgeon. The miseries of the poor, that 
are without the pale of the wealthy and fashionable 
congregations, are rolled upon him. He heeds the 
cry, and, in the midst of a poor, sin-infected district, 



84 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

he comes, with a true martyr spirit, to immolate 
himself upon the prepared altar. The Established 
Church, with its formalism and coldness, had long 
failed to reach large masses that were sitting in the 
region and shadow of spiritual death; and in the 
midst of such, Spurgeon has reared a mighty taber- 
nacle, that, like the tree of Hfe, stands for the healing 
of the nation. 

In a spirit of almost unparalleled zeal, he brings 
all the powers of his great soul to his great work; 
and with master-strokes, he breaks in pieces the 
flinty hearts. To the wounded and weary he brings 
the balm of consolation ; the sin-sick he leads to the 
Great Physician. Out of the fullness of his heart he 
supplies the wants of all. His earnestness and truth- 
fulness command attention and respect, and in 
strains of simple eloquence he thrills the heart like a 
spiritual presence. Always he makes the work of 
the Master overshadow the workman. Almost be- 
yond comprehension is the work he is doing. Eter- 
nity alone will reveal it, when the souls saved by 
his efforts shall shine as stars in his crown. 

Such a man was one of the especial wants of the 
times, and his coming shows how admirably God times 
and tunes his instruments to the key-note of the age. 

It may not be amiss to state here that in seven- 
teen years Spurgeon has received thirteen thousand 
persons into his Church, erected thirty-six chapels 
in London, and supplied them with ministers trained 
in the college of his own founding. 



mit'' 



lir 



f^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 



iiiiiii^l^i^^^^^^^^,^H 




■i'l'l!:!S|iil'i!|ll!i^^ 



NEWMAN HALL. 8$ 

Since my subject has led me to the London pulpit, 
I would place next to Spurgeon Newman Hall, who, 
as the fruits of his labors show, has been eminently 
successful. He did' not impress me as some, who 
have become vainglorious because of their em- 
inence; but he seemed absorbed in the desire to 
save souls, whose salvation was above earthly 
considerations. 

When we heard him, his text was taken from 
Psalm Ixxxvii, 3: ^^ Glorious things are spoken 
of thee, O city of God.'' He commenced by giv- 
ing a beautiful picture of Jerusalem as it was, — 
throned among the hills, favored of God, and glori- 
ous in its beauty and strength. Then he spoke at 
length of the great temple, where, in its symbols and 
ceremonies, was the manifest presence of God, and 
adds : ^ ^ How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord 
of hosts!" ^'Let us walk about Zion, mark well her 
bulwarks." All through the sermon, his thoughts 
and quotations were pertinent and effective, and full 
of enkindling zeal. 

He gave a glowing description of the temple at 
Jerusalem, and how noiselessly its stones were welded 
and piled, in proportions of great strength and 
beauty; and then aptly compared to it the great 
spiritual temple of which Christ was the chief corner- 
stone. All true Christians, he said, were to have a 
place in the great structure; but he dwelt especially 
on the idea that we were to be '^lively stones." 

He said: *^ We must needs be molded after God's 



86 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

pattern, perhaps in the crucible of affliction; or 
formed into symmetry by the sharp chisel of trials, 
to fit us for our niche in the great temple of God: a 
temple not reared with grand columns, and displays 
of high art, but one reared in faith, sustained by the 
majesty of truth, and adorned with love and charity.'' 

As much as any, it seems, Newman Hall is assist- 
ing toward the building of this glojious temple. 

Dr. Parker we did not hear ; but we went to hear 
Dr. Gumming, with whose writings we had long been 
familiar. He preaches at Graven Gourt Ghapel, near 
Govent Garden. The church is not large; has a 
gallery on three sides. In the middle of the fourth 
side stands the pulpit, over which is an old-fashioned 
sounding-board. ■ The air of the church is exceed- 
ingly plain, and rather gloomy. There is no organ, 
and poor singing. The congregation is a highly 
respectable and intelligent-looking one. 

Dr. Gumming is a tall, dignified-looking man, with 
black hair and eyes, and fine, classical features. He 
has a grace and polish of manner highly pleasing; 
but the predominant atinosphere of the man is that 
of great purity and intense spirituality, as of one 
always prepared for the speedy second coming of 
Ghrist-^a subject he so warmly advocates. 

His commentary on the Scripture, in reading, was 
highly edifying and instructive; his sermon in con- 
versational style, without notes; his ideas original, 
and clothed in beautiful garb. He warmly exhorted 
to incessant activity, knowing the time of our tarrying 



DR. GUMMING. 8/ 

here was short; spoke feelingly of the temptations 
and trials that come to all, therefore we should 
abound in sympathy and charity; and, in giving 
looks and words of kindness, we might ^Mrop music 
in the heart that would sing on forever;'^ and in 
doing good deeds, he said, we were ^^ kindling 
sparks that would burn in our own and other hearts, 
until they were warmed to the temperature of 
heaven." The sermon was full of beautiful thoughts 
and expressions. ^ 



88 SCENES IN EUROrE. 



diikptef IX. 

SOUTH OF ENGLAND — WINCHESTER — ALFRED THE GREAT'S 
BURIAL-PLACE, AS WELL ALSO AS EGBERT'S AND CANUTE'S — 
COUNTRY — IMPRESSIONS — SOUTHAMPTON — OLD RUINS--NET- 
LEY ABBEY. 

A WHOLE season might be delightfully spent in 
the South of England, and whole books might 
be filled with descriptions of its varied scenes, that 
lie in green and fertile beauty; as well as the archi- 
tectural wonders embodied in the magnificent cathe- 
drals of Salisbury, Chichester, and Winchester, to- 
gether with the old abbeys and palaces, all of which 
are marked by distinctive characteristics and historic 
individuality. But we can, in our limited space, only 
touch lightly a few of them. 

In that venerable town of Winchester alone, one 
reads an epitome of English art and English history, 
it bears still about it so many marks of the days 
when it was the capital of the British realm. The 
fact that Egbert, Canute, and Alfred the Great are 
sleeping in that quiet old town, gives wonderful 
interest to the spot, and suggests many thoughts; 
especially Alfred, who, among all the race of kings, 
stands as pre-eminent as does Shakespeare among 



MEMORIES OF WINCHESTER, 89 

the poets, his mind so clear, brilliant, and compre- 
hensive, with wisdom, grace, and prescience outvy- 
ing all the sainted monks, crusaders, and crowned 
heads. History tells us of his conflicts, his wondrous 
labors; of the monasteries he endowed, the churches 
he built, the books he translated; but his greatest 
and highest achievement was in building so pure, so 
noble, so grand a character. His exalted manliness 
is marked by a simplicity and humility that ever char- 
acterizes truly noble natures, and his actions seem 
shaped with a view to their being tested in the light 
of eternity. His death was a simple, unrecorded 
act of his patient and obedient life. And the man 
of prayer, the man of work, and the country's hero, 
desired no embalming, needed no monument. The 
perfume of his pure life hangs about his grave with 
the peculiar freshness of wild-wood flowers. 

Many remembered stories — of grand festive scenes, 
marriages of royalty — come trooping up from the 
halls of memory, as one stands by the old castle 
walls; and imagination paints, in new and glowing 
colors, the courtly grandeur that marked the marriage 
of Philip of Spain to Queen Mary of England, or, 
farther back, the visit of Emperor Charles V to 
Henry VIII. 

Then, too, among other impressive scenes, come 
those of the times when Cromwell shook the place, 
and almost the dust of the dead kings in their tombs, 
by the tread of his fierce battalions. We can but 
regret he did not, in his devastations, spare more 



90 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

of those fine old monuments; and we do not like his 
desecration of the cathedral. Notwithstanding, it 
still stands in its majestic proportions, heavy with 
elaborate workmanship, and quite full of interesting 
mementos of the past. 

Going from Winchester to Southampton, we could 
but mark how different were all the impressions from 
those of our own country. Quiet, gray old towns, 
that were crumbling with age before America was 
discovered, stand as they then stood. Many broad 
acres stretched out from them, bearing no human 
habitation. Across these run the hedges; and the 
fields were dotted by clumps of oaks and elms, 
under which stood the sleepy cattle. But there is 
ever over the English landscape an air of loneliness. 
We miss the busy bustle of our towns — the cheerful 
white farm-houses that so enliven our country. 

However, having an eye to the poetical element, 
we found much pleasure viewing the thatch-roofed 
cottages; and looked, with a head full of romance, 
at the embowered walks and stiles, those trysting- 
places for young and bashful lovers: for we have 
followed them in many a story. This mother-country 
and mother-tongue has a strong hold upon us; its 
memories and its scenes touch us tenderly and 
deeply. For its venerable looks, and its green old 
age, we have an instinctive reverence akin to that 
we feel for our honored ancestors. Much as we 
dislike the coldness and arrogance of the English- 
man, we know below the exterior are better elements 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 9I 

in them, and we feel we have a birth-rjght interest in^ 
the people and country. 

Our first impressions of England and English life 
were received at Southampton, during a previous 
visit. We had crossed the ocean on a German 
steamer — all the way heard an unfamiliar language; 
and the sound of the English tongue, and familiar 
songs sung by boys in the street, was music to our 
ears. But all the sights were strange. The hotel 
gloomy; and our prison-like room, with its great, 
dark fire-place, its one small window, opening on a 
little court that was moldy and grim; the heavy fur- 
niture of 'the room ; the two beds, over the head of 
which hung curtains of dark calico, — these surround- 
ings struck a chill to our hearts. Seeing a door 
open opposite ours into what I took to be a sitting- 
room, as it looked more inviting, I entered, leaving 
the door ajar, as I found it. Shortly, a solemn- 
looking waiter, dressed in black broadcloth, swal- 
low-tail coat, and white cravat, obsequiously en- 
tered, desiring to know if I had engaged the 
sitting-room. I answered briefly, hastening to my 
room. Did not stop to explain to this important 
individual that, in the land from which I came, 
pleasant parlors and sitting-rooms were freely fur- 
nished at our hotels. 

After partaking of a comfortable dinner, we took 
a carriage, and went out to explore that town of 
ancient origin. Through the remains of its old 
walls and old relics, we read its stories of olden 



92 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

times, of Romans, of Canute, of invading Danes. 
Since those times, it has been, at intervals, a favorite 
spot of kingly residence. 

As the town now stands, it is not devoid of in- 
terest, with its many thrifty business streets; its 
pleasant parks, both small and great; its stately man- 
sions. Summer homes of English aristocracy. In 
contrast with these come narrow streets, little cot- 
tages built of stone and stucco — the windows of the 
latter all aglow with brilliant flowers, giving a cheer- 
ful, tasteful look to the humble dwellings. 

We drove just outside the town, through a grand 
old avenue of lindens and English elms. The 
latter, though not so graceful as our American elms, 
had still a majestic look. Their gray, moss-covered 
bodies and sturdy limbs showed scars of centuries 
of storms. 

However much I enjoyed the sights of Southamp- 
ton, the thought and feeling that most moved me 
was, that we were within three miles of Netley Abbey. 
Always, in reading of the old-world shrines, the 
ruined castles and abbeys formed the most attractive 
feature. Although imagination had clothed them 
with unnumbered charms, yet the influence that 
comes by actual vision and contact must be experi- 
enced before any just conception can be formed. 
Nor is the charm diminished by famiharity; but the 
first sight of one is a red-letter mark in life's history, 
and stands in vivid colors after a lapse of several 
years. 




Netiey Abbey. 



Face Page 92. 



NETLEY ABBEY. 93 

In visiting Netley Abbey, we were favored with a 
sky of brightest blue. The air was clear, and a 
recent shower had left its sparkling drops glittering 
upon a landscape of the freshest, brightest, tenderest 
green my eyes had ever looked upon; a soft, volup- 
tuous wealth of beauty seen only in Southern Eng- 
land. The mossy meadows were tapestried with 
flowers; the grain-fields graded in colors, and ar- 
ranged in stripes. These, also, were embellished 
with scarlet poppies. The trees stood in artistic 
arrangement, and nice hedge-rows of privet and 
white-flowering hawthorn bordered the lanes. This 
was ^-Merrie England;" and I did not wonder that 
Englishmen glorify their island-home. 

A ride amid such scenes had fully attuned us to 
an appreciation of the beautiful; and when the gray, 
ivy-mantled walls of the old monastery broke upon 
me, I felt awed and inspired. 

We entered by the chapter-house, where official 
business was transacted. This is the only place 
where the roof remains entire. The great, cavernous 
fire-place and dark, moldy surroundings were unin- 
viting; and we hastened on to the grand drawing- 
room, or refectory for the monks — an apartment one 
hundred and forty feet long. The room has no 
longer its groined ceiling; but in the center shoots 
up an enormous ash-treCj apparently not less than 
two centuries old, its broad, spreading branches 
forming a canopy to the roofless room. 

Beyond this apartment comes one of greater extent 



94 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and proportions, called the Fountain Court. Around 
this the gray, stately walls are hung with beautiful 
festoons of ivy, that mingle with the somber shadows 
of the place. Around this are smaller rooms; and 
above all rise towers in different styles of architec- 
ture, yet all in keeping, and speaking a harmonious 
language. 

Then comes the chapel, whose style is exquisitely 
fine, delicate, and full of a spiritual expression that 
plays melodiously on the senses. The towering 
walls are broken in picturesque outline, over which 
the ivy twines, and trails its graceful drapery, ten- 
derly concealing all defects; and over this roofless 
shrine the soft sky looks lovingly. The magnificent 
east window remains entire. The shafts are beau- 
tifully proportioned and ornamented; and where a 
flaw comes, there comes the ruin-loving vine, as if 

" Some fairy hand, 
'Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand 
In many a freaking knot had twined ; 
Then framed a spell, when the work was done, 
And changed the fairy wreaths to stone." 

Within this ancient shrine of faith, for some 
centuries the finger of decay has been leaving its 
tracery. Crumbling arches and broken columns lie 
in heaps, adorned by flowers and grass and vines. 
I sat down on these fragments of fallen greatness. 
Inspired by the place and occasion, thoughts came 
flooding in upon me; ideas seemed born and matured 



LAST VIEW OF NETLEY, 95 

in a moment, — verifying the assertion of the poet, 
who says: 

"There are moments in life when the spirit receives 
Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves ; 
When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose, 
Like the innermost leaves from the heart of the rose." 

Emerson, in his essay on '^ Weeks and Days," 
remarking of times of intense thought and feeHng, 
says : ' ' Moments of insight, of fine personal rela- 
tions — what ample borrowers of eternity they are! 
It is the depth at which we live, and not the surface 
extension, that imparts. We pierce to the eternity 
of which time is the flitting surface; and the least 
acceleration of thought, and the least increase of 
the power of thought, make hours seem of vast 
duration." Such days loom up along the highway 
of the past clearly, from all surroundings. They 
end in reality; but in memory, never. 

Seeing the shadows deepening around us, and 
the departing sunlight touching only the topmost 
walls and towers, we reluctantly left. The fol- 
lowing extract best describes our last view and last 
thoughts : 

*' We saw thee, Netley, when the sun 

Across the western wave 
Was sinking slow, and a golden glow 

To thy roofless towers he gave ; 
And the ivy sheen, with its mantle of green, 

That wrapt thy walls around, 
Shone lovely, bright, in that glorious light, 

And we felt it was holy ground ; 



96 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

And we thought of the ancient time, 

The days of the monks of old, 
When, to matin and vespers and comph'ne-chime, 

The loud hosannas rolled ; 
And thy courts and long-drawn aisles among, 
Swelled the full tide of sacred song." 



TO THE LAKE COUNTRY. 97 



dl(kj)tef X. 

LAKE COUNTRY OF ENGLAND — RUGBY — DR. ARNOLD — WINDER- 
MERE — BOWNESS — LAKE HOUSE — FURNESS ABBEY — WORDS- 
WORTH— GRASMERE — KESWICK — SOUTHEY. 

BRIGHT days in the cloudy land of England, 
like the bright days in life, are the exceptions; 
so that we are sure to remember them. It was on 
such a day, in the early morning, ere the great city 
of London was half awake, we hurried through the 
streets, off to the North-western Station, to take cars 
for the Lake Country. 

We were soon moving rapidly and quietly through 
still more quiet scenes. Rich and fertile, it is true, 
looked the landscape; but one almost tires of the 
monotony of that low, level country, and its op- 
pressive silence, where the moving train and little 
steam-whistle make scarcely a ripple in the still at- 
mosphere. Scattered distantly were sometimes seen 
an old palace or ambitious mansion; the farmers 
congregating in little settlements of low, dingy brick 
houses, with red tile roofs — a gloomy contrast to the 
architecturally beautiful houses, glowing in white and 
drab paint, that mark American towns and villages 
with such an air of cheerfulness. 

7 



98 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

History, memory, imagination, however, throw a 
charm over some of those dull, as well as even the 
pleasanter, spots. It has been said that * * the most 
beautiful nature is dead until a human soul starts it 
it into being." This certainly is especially true of a 
tame country; and its truth is exemplified in the 
interest thrown about the uncomely town of Rugby, 
where the residence of a few illustrious spirits have 
lighted up a place of such positive natural dullness. 

The buildings of the famous Rugby school seem 
almost the only object of note; but the chief interest of 
the place lies in the fact that in and about this region 
lived Addison, John Newton, Thomas Scott, Cowper, 
and Dr. Arnold. Each one must have created his 
own pleasant atmosphere in which to dwell; but Dr. 
Arnold acknowledged he had a spirit sensitively alive 
to the charms of a more beautiful nature. And 
although he felt he could not expand amid such 
scenes, yet, regarding it as his working-field, he 
resolved to forego self-enjoyment, and there conse- 
crate himself entirely to the demands of duty, desir- 
ing more than all else the approval of his Master 
and his own pure conscience — quoting, it is said, 
often, the words of Bacon: *^In this world, God 
only, and the angels, may be spectators.'' Such an 
example of true moral heroism and self-sacrificing de- 
votion is a sufficient monument to the name of the 
man who had a burial at Rugby when his working- 
days were over. 

From the level plane of this region we went 



AT BOWNESS. 99 

rapidly toward Cumberland. It was with sensations 
of eager delight we saw the hills that stretch out 
from the lakes; and before night we were at the 
village of Windermere. The hotels and houses were 
full of Summer boarders; and, finding no place to 
suit us, we rode down to Bowness, a little straggling 
town, sitting with its feet in the water, and stretching 
far up the hill-side, and its head crowned by the Royal 
Crown Inn. From this spot may be seen a view of 
wonderful magnificence, when the air is clear. Dur- 
ing the time of our. stay there, the perverse clouds 
hung over it, barely lifting for a little time, the fol- 
lowing morning, to give us a glimpse of those hidden 
beauties. 

This was tantalizing, and we resolved to see 
something else. So we wandered down to the lake- 
shore, where were bevies of boatmen, in blue linsey- 
woolsey suits and oil-cloth hats, eager and polite as 
politicians who desire patronage, and quite as sharp. 
All Bowness Bay was gay with little boats, painted 
white, lined and cushioned with scarlet. We struck 
a bargain with a man whose face and bearing pleased 
us best, entered the boat, were rowed over to Bell 
Isle, on to the Ferry Inn — an old house sitting close 
on the lake-shore, in the midst of a grove of syca- 
mores. It looked such a quiet, restful spot, we re- 
solved to take apartments there; consequently, re- 
turned to the fashionable Crown Inn, merely to 
gather up our satchels, pay an exorbitant bill, and 
then recross the lake to the quiet inn, where we 



100 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

could sit under the trees, look out on the lake, seeing 
the numerous • steamers and sail-boats that enlivened 
the waters, or dreamily gaze at the great trains of 
moving clouds that trailed their moist robes along 
the distant hills. Sometimes we played croquet, 
wrote letters, talked with English tourists. Thus the 
days passed pleasantly. 

Our first excursion out by steamer was to Lake- 
side, and from thence to Furness Abbey. There 
was on board the steamer a jolly excursion-party 
of English rustics, out for a genuine holiday. They 
had a band of music; and they had baskets of ale 
and whisky, as abundant as their eatables. Men and 
women alike partake freely; and their heads, like 
their holidays, end in a muddle. This is one of the 
worst features of English life; and we could not be- 
come accustomed to the universal sale of spirits, and 
to seeing it dealt out at hotels and stations by women. 
It struck us the English lower classes were mostly 
stupid, and without aspirations for any thing beyond 
the supply of physical wants. 

Landing at Lakeside, we took cars, for a few 
miles, to Furness Abbey. We found this great ruin 
in a narrow, secluded valley, aptly called the ^'glen 
of deadly nightshade, '^ because of the abundance 
there of that dangerous but beautiful vine. 

To appreciate such a ruin, one must look into its 
history, see its surroundings, feel its atmosphere, 
walk about it, and take in its vast proportions. It is 
usually of little use to give size and proportions; but 



FURNESS ABBEY. lOI 

this is so immense I am tempted to resort to figures. 
The church is cruciform; the nave three hundred 
feet in length, and seventy in breadth. The walls 
vary in thickness from five to eleven feet. In the 
north transept is a window thirty feet high, and 
seventeen in breadth. The chancel is lighted by 
four elegant windows, one of which is forty-seven 
feet high, and twenty-three in breadth. The whole 
church is now dismantled, ^ ^ sublime in its ruin, 
grand in its woe,'' and 

" The mighty windows — shorn of glass of many coloring, 
Through which the deepened glories once could enter, 
Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings — 
Now yawn, all desolate." 

In connection with the church are chapter-house, 
cloisters, dormitory, refectory, and guest- chapel. 
Over it all, the ivy creeps; and the veil of the past 
throws its magic folds, softening, encircling, and 
giving dignity to the once magnificent structure. 

On our way back we had several slight showers, 
the unfailing accompaniment of the tourist in that 
region; and just before reaching the dock a thunder- 
shower burst suddenly upon us. The lightning struck 
the smoke-stack of the steamer. A ball of fire rolled 
down and away, no one saw whither. Such a scene 
of consternation as followed would be hard to de- 
scribe. I believe sudden and severe storms are 
frequent on that beautiful lake. 

The atmosphere seems almost ever filled with 
clouds and mist, broken through occasionally with 



I02 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

great bright spots of sunshine; and, while there, it 
was often a source of especial interest and delight to 
sit under the sycamores, looking out on that diversi- 
fied scene, so beautiful in form and color; to watch 
the effect of light and shade, and the constant, airy- 
play of the clouds, between which and the sun there 
seemed a constant struggle for the mastery. 

The atmosphere was oftenest filled with a light, 
moving mist, that trailed its long, thin robe over the 
distant mountains, investing their beautiful forms 
with a dreamy, poetical spell that pleased the fancy, 
and by its sweet influences soothed the asperities of 
life. Such influences help one in the struggle to rise 
above materialism; for true poetry consists not alone 
in rhythmical numbers, but in rising to that condition 
that the beautiful in nature and art reveal to us the 
symphonies vibrating in them, and cause us to feel 
the same spell that harmonious numbers always 
produce. 

It is true, as has been said, poets are born, not 
made. Nevertheless, to be born and reared in such 
a region must stimulate, enlarge, and refine the poet- 
nature; and this inspiring influence Wordsworth felt 

when he said : 

** Be mute who can, — 
My lips, that may forget tliee in the crowd, 
Can not forget thee here, where thou hast built 
For thine own glory in the wilderness ; 
Me didst thou constitute a priest of thine." 

Acting in this priestly ofhce, while Wordsworth 
reveled in the beauties of nature, and, from its 



WORDSWORTH. IO3 

grandest forms down to the smallest flower, drew 
happiness, he sat not down amidst it in sensuous 
indulgence, but, truly interpreting her mission, saw 
through it the presence and expression of the Divine 
mind, and by force of this understanding better 
recognized and loved the greatest of all God's works, 
mankind. As he says, he saw 

" God in the human soul, and God in all things." 

His heart beat especially in large sympathy with the 
lowly and the sorrowing, and his sensitive ear was 
so attuned as to 

*' Hear oftentimes 
The still, sad music of humanity." 

This spirit led him to love and respect the lowliest 
and poorest; and thus, out of common clay, he has 
molded for us such charming forms of beauty and 
truth as may be found in his ' ' Excursion. " 

Late in life, the result of his experience is thus 
briefly given : 

*' Having walked with nature three-score years, 
And offered, far as frailty would allow, 
My heart a daily sacrifice to truth, 
I now affirm of nature and of truth. 
Whom I have served, that their divinity 
Revolts, offended at the ways of man." 

I have written thus lengthily of Wordsworth be- 
cause he principally has illustrated that region by his 
poetry, and not because he stands alone; for he is 
only a vesper star amid a vesper throng that illumi- 



104 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

nate that literary atmosphere, and give an additional 
glow to its natural beauties. 

The day before our week at Windermere was 
over, the clouds had all been dispersed, and on one 
of the brightest of mornings we took the steamer for 
Ambleside. The waves of the lake danced and 
sparkled in the sunlight; the distant mountains stood 
bold and clear against the sky ; woods and fields lay 
spread out distinctly on all sides. Among the groves 
gleamed out palatial homes; pretty little cottages 
adorned the sunny slopes, or nestled in the silvan 
dells. Promontories ran out into the water, and 
bays ran inland; so that every moment some new 
charm greeted us. 

Just after passing Bowness, quite back from the 
lake-shore, on an elevated spot, stands the former 
home of Professor Wilson, a view from which, he 
says, ' ' has nothing to compare with it in the hanging- 
gardens of Babylon.^' 

A little farther * down the lake, quite near the 
shore, in a cozy nook, was pointed out to us 
^^ Dove's Nest,'' where Mrs. Hemans for a short 
time resided — a place especially suited to her taste. 
She says of it : * ' I am writing to you from an old- 
fashioned alcove in the little garden, round which 
the sweet-brier and the rose-tree have completely run 
wild. I look down from it upon lovely Windermere, 
which seems at this moment even like another sky, 
so truly is every Summer cloud and tint of azure 
pictured in its transparent mirror." She speaks of 



RYDAL MOUNT. IO5 

her delight in the spot, and says: ^'Perhaps some 
heart, Hke my own in its feehngs and sufferings, has 
here sought refuge and repose." 

Other homes of interest might be mentioned, 
among which stands Fox How, where still reside the 
family of Dr. Arnold. 

Landing at the head of Windermere, we took a 
carriage for Keswick, twenty miles across the coun- ^ 
try. One mile on the way, we came to the village 
of Ambleside. It stands facing the lake, and inclosed 
on three sides by mountains. The streets are nar- 
row, but clean ; and the houses are mostly unpreten- 
tious gray-stone cottages, bountifully adorned with 
flowers and vines. At this place Miss Martineau has 
her home; and many Summer tourists linger long at ^ 
thiis spot. 

About a mile beyond this stands the little village 
of Rydal; adjoining it a large park, with many fine 
trees; and in its midst Rydal Hall, seat of Rev. Sir 
Richard Fleming. Here, turning to the right, one 
passes the park gate, and, climbing up a steep road 
for some distance, comes to the summit of Rydal' 
Mount, which is really a projection of a still taller 
mountain called Knab Scar. There, on Rydal 
Mount, sitting among flowers and rare shrubs, larches 
and laburnum-trees, stands the little, yellow, plastered ^ 
cottage of Wordsworth. A splendid fuchsia by the 
door waved a gentle welcome to us, and a peep at 
the shady walks beyond the cottage was suggestive 
of pleasures quite beyond our reach. A card on the 



I06 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

gate said, *^No admittance;" and we lost what we 
most longed for, — a view of the interior. However, 
we saw the poet's out-of-door study, — a huge rock 
down near the miniature waters of Rydal Mere, 
where, it is said, he used to spend much time read- 
ing and writing. 

A little farther on, sitting by the road-side, is the 
former home of Hartley Coleridge. It is a long, 
low, stucco cottage, partially covered with ivy — oth- 
erwise nothing about it to give it a poetic tinge. 

We followed, for a mile farther, a winding, pleas- 
ant road — hills on our right, and Grasmere, with its 
border of low, green banks, on our left. We en- 
tered Grasmere village, and went direct to the old 
church and its grave-yard, where, in neighborly con- 
tiguity, lie the mortal remains of Wordsworth and 
Coleridge. The church is a very unique one, built, 
it is said, over a thousand years ago. 

Near this village lived Thomas De Quincey. 
Added to the names of those who resided about 
these lakes, many others used to come to enjoy and 
enliven the scene for a time — among whom were 
Lamb and Hogg and Scott, Canning and Christopher 
North. Lockhart gives glowing descriptions of some 
of these gatherings, where, he says, there was ^^high 
discourse,"' ^'intermingled with gay flashings of 
courtly wit, and a plentiful allowance, on all sides, 
of those airy, transient pleasantries in which the 
fancy of poets, however wise and grave, delights to 
run riot, when they are sure not to be misunderstood." 



APPROACH TO KESWICK. 10/ 

On the lakes, he says, '^ was music and sunshine, 
flags, streamers, and gay dresses. The merry hum 
of voices, the rapid splashing of innumerable oars, 
made up a dazzling mixture of sensations, as their 
flotillas wound among the richly foliaged islands, and 
along bays and promontories peopled with enthusi- 
astic spectators." All are now gone; and we were 
making our way to the grave of the last on our list, — 
the poet-laureate of England, Southey, who lived 
and died at Keswick. 

Going on toward Keswick, we passed the Lake 
of Thirlemere, and among mountains whose names 
had long been familiar — among them ^^ drear Hel- 
vellyn." Going over Dummail Pass, looking back 
toward Grasmere over the long stretch of valley, 
there lay a beautiful intermixture of green fields, 
dark forests, and blue waters, set in a frame of hills, 
whose summits were feathered with foliage or brist- 
ling with crags. 

As we approached Keswick, from the hill of 
Castlerigg there is doubtless the finest view in all 
that country. Looking ahead, at the left lies the 
transparent lake of Derwentwater, with its islands; 
and rising boldly from its shores is seen an innumer- 
able throng of mountains, whose steep sides are 
richly covered with woods. Quite in front of us lay 
scenes of wonderful variety and striking character- 
istics, — Derwentwater, whose transparent waters mir- 
rored perfectly the bold mountain-forms lying around 
it; a fertile vale stretched far away in the distance, 



I08^ SCENES IN EUROPE. 

with the Lake of Bassenthwaite, the town and outlying 
hills of varied form; and at our right the huge form 
of Skiddaw Mountain, whose outline rose bold and 
clear from base to summit. 

The charms of nature, the clean streets, pleasant 
houses, abundance of flowers, the splendid hotel, — 
all impressed us in the most agreeable manner; and 
we thought the poet-laureate of England could not, 
in all the kingdom, have found a more charming 
spot to dwell in. 

Among the uneven surfaces over which the town 
rambles, stands Greeta Hall, the former home of 
Southey. It stands on a prominent knoll, amidst a 
grove of fine trees, and directly in front of that giant 
mountain, Skiddaw. 

We went out, a mile from town, to the old church, 
sitting in a pleasant little park, where sleeps the poet 
Southey, and where has been placed a splendid and 
costly monument to him. In the church stands a fine 
marble tomb, on which is a full-length, recumbent 
figure of Southey. The head rests on a cushion. 
The face, copied from a cast taken at the age of 
fifty, is full of refinement and intellectual strength. 
The figure is wrapped about in the graceful folds of 
a robe. 



KESWICK TO PENRITH. IO9 



dl\kj)tef XI. 

KESWICK — PENRITH — CARLISLE — DUMFRIES — ROBERT BURNS — 
HIS BIRTHPLACE — GLASGOW — HOW IT IMPRESSED US — CATHE- 
DRAL — A TRIP TO LOCH LOMOND — LOCH KATRINE — ^THE 
TROSAGHS. 

FROM Keswick to Penrith. Along our way was 
a beautiful intermixture of mountains and 
plains, pleasant lakes and grand old forests. Pala- 
tial mansions, castles, and large parks, profusely 
ornamented, are scattered in the region of the latter 
place. The old castle of the Duke of Gloucester, 
afterward Richard III, ^we looked out upon with 
interest, as also the old Brougham castle. Had time 
permitted, we would have been glad to visit some of 
the Druidic remains in this region, and especially 
that curious relic of antiquity, ^^King Arthur's 
Round Table.'' Circumstances rendered it necessary 
for us to pass them by. 

At Carlisle, we would have been glad to take a 
peep into the prison of Mary, Queen of Scots — the 
first one given her by her noble cousin, Queen 
Elizabeth, or her ^^good sister," as she used to say 
in writing her; this prison being only the beginning 
of the nineteen years' confinement under her queenly, 



no SCENES IN EUROPE. 

sisterly protection. We did not, however, stop to 
examine this and other historical relics; and were 
the more reconciled to this necessity by the thought 
that just ahead of us lay the land of Burns. 

As we went northward, along our route extended 
far-reaching views of grassy lowlands, and at our 
left the salt waters of Solway Firth. The names of 
the railroad-stations on the route were constant re- 
minders of sweet Scottish poems. At Annandale, 
my memory at once caught up snatches of the old 

song: 

" By far the sweetest flower there 
Was the Rose of Annandale.'' 

Then came Maxwelton, and I found myself humming, 

" Maxwelton braes are bonny." 

Our destination was Dumfries, where we soon 
arrived, and found a dirty town, but a clean and 
good inn. We wondered how a true poet could be 
content to live in Dumfries, as Burns did the last 
three years of his life. We visited the small house, 
in a narrow, crooked street, where he lived — the 
room in which he died; and then went to the old, 
old cemetery, where lie his mortal remains. In the 
large and curious church, the sexton pointed out the 
seat Burns used to occupy, behind a pillar, where 
he sat and often took notes of the sermon. Having 
seen these places of interest, we went on to Glasgow, 
passing through several manufacturing towns. 

After getting settled at Glasgow, and a little rested. 



BIRTHPLACE OF BURNS. 1 1 1 

our first excursion was to be made to the birthplace 
of Burns; for our heads were full of the subject, and 
the spell of his genius hung about that land. So we 
must needs pursue the theme and the sights. 

We took cars to Kilmarnock, and from thence to 
the banks of Ayr. Nearly all the way lies a low, 
level country, the road running along the shores of 
the Firth of Clyde. Arriving at the town of Ayr, 
we took a carriage, along a hedge-bordered road, to 
the humble cottage where Burns was born. 

The low, thatch-roofed cottage stands unaltered; 
but additions, put up on either side, mar the charm. 
However, the interior satisfied us, because in that 
one room all things remain intact, — the cracked and 
somewhat broken stone floor; the little fire-place, 
with its primitive arrangements; the dresser in the 
corner, where, in rows, stand plates, cups, and 
saucers, placed to make the most advantageous show; 
near this a four-light window, formerly the only one. 
In a recessed corner stands a bed, and a tall old 
clock stands by it, that marked the hour when Robert 
Burns first opened his eyes on this sorrowing world. 

There is to me ever a thrilling interest in visiting 
such spots; but our pleasure was somewhat marred 
by seeing this made a place of traffic in photographs 
and wood wares; and on one side we saw peddled 
beer, and, we think, something stronger. Then, the 
sharp practices, tricks, and meannesses of these 
hawkers quite disturb the poetic spell with which 
such spots are invested. 



112 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

About half a mile beyond the cottage, by the 
road-side, lies the ground where the parents of 
Burns, and neighboring families, are buried. In the 
midst of the graves stand the four roofless walls of 
** Alloway's auld haunted kirk;" and not far beyond, 
spanning a little stream, are the '^twa brigs." Be- 
tween the latter and the kirk, on an elevated spot, 
covered with rare shrubs and flowers, stands a beau- 
tiful monument to Burns. In the lower story are 
several interesting objects, a fine bust of Burns, and 
a remarkably well-painted portrait. Above this room 
runs a circular gallery, from which point one may 
get an extensive view of Ayr, and the ^^ banks and 
braes of bonny Doon." 

Coming down from this monument, we followed 
the guide, down a winding path, to a little building, 
erected to commemorate two of Burns's most gro- 
tesque characters. There, carved in stone, with 
life-like form and wonderfully expressive faces, sits 
Tam O'Shanter, 

" And, at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony. 
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
But pleasures are like poppies shed : 
You seize the flower, the bloom is dead. 
Or like the snow-flake in the river, 
A moment white, then gone forever." 

Burns has given us far higher thoughts and more 
beautiful images than these. Tam O'Shanter and 
Souter Johnny were fancies that, like his faults, were 



POETIC CHARACTER OF BURNS. II3 

the outgrowth of his surroundings and associations. 
Burns had a generous heart, quick and tender sensi- 
bilities, a highly poetic temperament, and large hu- 
man sympathies. These all conduced to render him 
a victim to his unworthy associations. In that coun- 
try, the stern rule of rank, in early life, stood a 
barrier between him and the refined and cultured. 
How his high and sensitive spirit chafed, under the 
patronage or the shghts of persons whom fortune 
had placed above him, was sometimes shown in his 
keen satire. Under such provocations, however, 
his own conscious superiority sustained him, and 
he felt, as he said: 

" You see yon birkie, ca'ed a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that. 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 

He 's but a coof, for a' that. 

For a' that, and a' that. 

His ribbon, star, and a' that, 
The man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men, for a' that." 

The sadness of his heart, and the philosophy 
gathered by stern experience, he gives in telling us 
^^man was made to mourn;" but in the *' Cotter's 
Saturday Night" shines forth the true nature of the 
poet. That inspired picture glows with the rich and 
tender feelings of domestic peace and purity; and 
those images were drawn from the principles that 
formed the basis of his character. To these images 

8 



114 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and shapes of beauty that floated through his soul, 
was added the ^^gift of song.'' Hans Christian 
Andersen says: ^^ A poet sings because he can not 
help it; something swells in his breast, and in his 
thoughts. The song will out; it spreads like the 
light — it rises like the waves. But very often nature 
places a leaf of her great music-book before him, 
and it is a challenge to sing. Then he sings from 
her notes." Walking along the furrow as he plowed. 
Burns sang; for his thoughts took rhythmic form. 
The eye of the 

" Wee, modest, crimson-tipped daisy " 

looked up at him, and he turned its story to song. 
The gloom or brightness of his surroundings tinged 
his verse; and as he sat in the ^* straw yard," and 
looked into the blue depths of the sky, and watched 

" The lingering star, with lessening ray," 

his soul seejned to reach the very height of song. 
As he sang of their parting: 

" That sacred hour can I forget ? . . . 
Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, 

O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green. 
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar 

Twined, amorous, round the raptured scene. 
The flowers sprang, wanton, to be prest ; 

The birds sang love on every spray; 
Till, too, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaimed the speed of winged day." 

In his farewell to his native country, he shows 
the deep and tender feelings of his heart : 



FAIR AT GLASGOW. II5 

" 'T is not the surging billows' roar, 
'T is not the fatal, deadly shore — 
Though death in ev'ry shape appear, 
The wretched have no more to fear — 
But round my heart the ties are bound- 
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound. 
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear. 
To leave the bonny banks of Ayr." 

Burns's poems are his best eulogy; his faults are 
to be judged mercifully. Reared in poverty, and 
feeling deeply its stings at times, yet his true poetic 
fancy clothed often life and its surroundings with 
radiant splendors; and he strewed his pathway with 
the flowers of poesy, and in a few brief years reached 
the climax of poetic excellence, and died at thirty-six. 
As Mrs. Browning says of Keats, — 

" He never stepped in gradual progress, like another ; 
But found himself fully ensphered in a few 
Perfect years ; and died not young." 

Among all our days in Europe, none gave me 
greater pleasure ; and returning to t^lasgow, by 
steamer, on the Clyde, we passed the Isle of Arran, 
which Scott has poetized, and grass and flowers and 
ferns beautified. 

Most of the way back, we were treated to songs 
of Robert Burns, in true Scotch dialect, sung by a 
blind man, and well accompanied by a fiddle. 

When we first arrived at Glasgow, it was at the 
time of one of their annual fairs. The streets were 
thronged with thousands, who had come from the fac- 
tories and forges and ship-yards, and the impressions 



1 16 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

were far from agreeable. The two characteristics 
quite prominent were dirt and drunkenness. I am 
sorry to say that, in the land of the Covenanters, 
these sins are rife; although in the substratum of so- 
ciety lies imbedded genuine integrity and the pure 
and vital principles of Christianity, that always has 
drawn forth so much genuine respect for the Scotch 
character. 

Glasgow is a great workshop. There life chafes 
and roars; the smoke of a thousand forges fills the 
air, and hangs in clouds over the city; the buzz of 
numberless factories mingles with the noisy tread of 
the teeming business throng. For miles along the 
river-banks are the skeletons of mammoth ships, 
being shaped into wondrous proportions and strength 
and completeness, to swell the tide of commerce, 
trade, and travel to all lands. Thus every-where 
is heard the hum of industry. And yet Glasgow 
has its retiree^ corner — its West End — poetically called 
Kelvin Grove. Here are green and beautiful parks, 
which taste and art have rendered very charming. 
Some fine public buildings stand on the prominent 
points; and around the suburbs, and upon the 
ridges, are elegant abodes. These seem to stand in 
a clearer atmosphere, and command extensive and 
beautiful prospects. 

Scattered about the city are some fine monuments; 
but the crowning monument of the past is its mag- 
nificent cathedral. Its architectural merits are worthy 
a chapter; and, aside from this, it is full of interest, 



LOCH LOMOND. 11/ 



. "^. 



as being identified with many stirring events in the 
history of the nation. There is cause for thankfulness 
that, in destroying Romish monuments and shrines, 
the Reformers spared this — only taking away the 
idolatrous images. Thus it stands, in its entire state, 
as it stood many hundred years ago, in almost the 
dawn of Scottish history. 

A rich pictorial Bible history may be read in its 
marvelously beautiful windows. They are effective 
sermons in glass. 

The site on which the cathedral stands is rather 
low. Behind lies a gorge, through which runs a 
stream. As a background to the cathedral rises the 
Necropolis — a bold hill, terraced from the bottom to 
the top. Along the terraces run rows of vaults and 
graves, tombstones and monuments. Crowning the 
summit of the hill, towering above all others, on a 
fine Doric column, stands an imposing statue of John 
Knox. His form is massive, his attitudp impressive, 
his right-hand extended, and he seems still at his 
work; and though dead, yet speaketh. 

Making Glasgow our head-quarters, we went out 
from thence to visit the Scotch lakes. A ride of 
fourteen miles, by cars, brought us to the head of 
Loch Lomond. A nice steamer starts from this 
point, twice a day, with passengers for various 
points. All this portion of the lake is embellished 
with innumerable islands, small and great, adorned 
by trees and shrubs, that cast soft and beautiful 
shadows in the limpid waters. Among these, the 



Il8 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Steamer is constantly winding. Along the shores, 
the mountains rise in varied form and outline; some 
pushing out into the water, standing clearly and 
boldly before us; others, in gentler form, receded 
from us, and lay half-enveloped in a soft mist. 

As we sped onward, the sun warmed all the 
scene; 

*' The gray mist left the mountain-side ; 
The torrent showed its glistening pride ;" 

- and Ben Lomond, the monarch of that region, took 
off his cloud-cap, and gave us a view of his bald 
head. This, we are told, is a rare favor. We were 
not quite sure but the compliment passed over us, 
and was intended as a mark of especial respect to a 
large American flag flung out from the top of a hotel 
on the opposite shore. 

From this point of the lake, the waters begin 
gradually to contract, and the shores are much 
wilder. Our steamer landed us at Inversnaid, near 
the foot of the lake, where we were to go five miles 
across the country, to Loch Katrine. For the large 
number of travelers, three huge conveyances were 
drawn up in front of the inn. These were called, 
by the natives, *^ machines." They consisted, first, 

^ of four large wheels, forming a high, broad base. 
On this was placed a large box, into which, by a 
back-door, were shoved several American trunks and 

^ other luggage. On this box were placed, crosswise, 
five elevated seats, each of which would seat five 



% 



BEAUTY OF THE HIGHLANDS. 1 19 

persons or more. In ambitious height, they reminded 

me of the affair 

** The builders vain, 
Presumptuous, reared on Shinar's plain." 

The ^^ machine" we selected bore the euphonious 
name of Roderic Dhu. A ladder was placed against 4% 
the side, by means of which we climbed to our 
eyrie. Four milk-white horses stood pawing, in 
their impatience to be off with us. Our driver was 
in gorgeous costume, — buff breeches, scarlet coat, 
trimmed with rusty gilt-lace, a bright-yellow waist- 
coat, and white hat. With an air of conscious im- 
portance, he climbed to his exalted position, gave an 
extensive flourish and crack of the whip, and away 
we dashed, over hill and heath, through the very 
heart of the region where lived and flourished the 
Macgregors, and where that celebrated bandit, Rob 
Roy, held his lawless reign, and also held the sur- 
rounding region in awe. The picturesque scenes 
were inwoven with the very spirit of romance, and 
the witching spell of Walter Scotf s poetry. Snatches 
of it kept constantly coming up from memory; and 
I began almost to expect, from bush and tree and 
mountain-side, to see the Highland clans spring up 
and re-enact the tragic scenes of other times. 

As we came around a curve, in fair view below 
us, in undimpled and transparent beauty, lay the 
clear, blue waters of Loch Katrine. A dapper little 
steamer, called ^ob Roy^ received us on board, and 
we went gliding quietly on among the fairy scenes. 



% 



120 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Near the terminus of this small lake, we came to 
Ellen's Isle. And so much faith have I in the per- 
sonality of Ellen Douglas, as we rounded the point 
where her '* shallop was moored," I looked to see 
her rowing out, dressed in her *^ satin snood and 
silken plaid." And just at our left, I felt sure of 
seeing Fitz-James grieving over his dead charger, 
his ^'gallant gray." Still watching over this spot, as 
of yore, we saw, standing, Ben An and Ben Venue. 

We landed under a rustic arbor, covered with 
boughs of evergreens and heather. ^ Mounted an- 
other ^^ machine," for a ten miles' ride through the 
Trosachs. A little way along, at our right, lay the 
waters of Loch Achray. We rode under an avenue 
of trees, that stretched for some distance. We 
crossed the ^^Brig o' Turk." A pleasant valley lay 
at our right, gemmed with the blue waters of Loch 
Vennachar; and not far removed, the scene of the 
encounter between Fitz-James and Roderic Dhu. 

On our left, the road skirted by the veritable 
Trosachs, that in height and eifect, and in all 
things, disappointed me. We stayed over-night at 
Callender, at a half-rustic but comfortable inn. 
Many travelers were there; and the only apparent 
amusement, in the very dull place, was watching 
two boys run races with mules, that were evidently 
trained to balk when expectation for their winning 
was highest. It is well, in this weary world, to 
fi/nd something to laugh at, if it is nothing more 
than a balking mule. Besides, the too gratuitous 



THE TROSACHS. 121 

contributions were a nice harvest for the Highland 
lads. 

Next morning, we retraced our steps, after waiting 
a little for a heavy shower to pass. The larches and 
pines, that climbed up the Trosachs, glittered with 
the clinging rain-drops. The grassy slopes were 
fresh and green; and over the rocks and hill-tops 
the heather spread its royal mantle of purple. 
These, all seen in a glowing sunlight, brought much 
of the charm with which my imagination had in for- 
mer days invested them. Still, I think the principal 
charm of the Trosachs lies most in song and story. 
The heather, however, is more than fancy-painted; 
deserves the richest coloring poetry can give it. 

But,— 

•* No more these simple flowers belong 
To Scottish maid and lover; 
Sown in the common soil of song 
They bloom, the wide world over. 

In smiles and tears, in sun and showers, 

The minstrel and the heather, 
The deathless singer, and the flowers 

He sang of, live together." 

We Stopped just below the Trosachs Hotel, to 
regale ourselves with the most charming view found 
anywhere in the famed region of romantic beauty. 
We skimmed again over the surface of Loch Katrine; 
and at Inversnaid took steamer for the lower portion 
of Loch Lomond, and thence back toward Glasgow. 
When half-way back, among the clustering islands, 
clouds and real Scotch mist were gathering quickly 



122 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

about them, giving a more somber tinge to the ro- 
mance of the scene. This was followed by very- 
dark skies, high winds, terrific thunder and light- 
ning. We would gladly have dispensed with this 
phase of Highland experiences; and felt not a little 
relieved when, amidst pouring rain and a fierce 
storm, we were landed at the dock. In great haste, 
we rushed for the train that was soon to land us at 
our Glasgow home. 



THE TOWN OF OBAN. 1 23 



dlikptef XII. 

CLYDE — CRINAN CANAL — OBAN — lONA — STAFFA — FINGAL'S 
CAVE — WESTERN LAKES — CALEDONIAN CANAL — INVERNESS — 
DUNKELD — STIRLING. 

GOING from Glasgow, our route was, for a dis- 
tance, down the Clyde, on a commodious 
steamer. Then we disembarked, and took a pleasant 
little packet, for a few miles, on the Crinan Canal. 
The scenery is nothing remarkable ; but the trip is a 
pleasant one. At the termination of the canal, we 
again went aboard of a fine steamer, and wended 
our way toward Oban, on one of the loveliest of 
Scotch lochs. The scenes were quite enchanting. 
A fine Scotch band was playing; and the influences 
drove away all sense of weariness, although the 
journey had been . long and tiresome. With flags 
flying, and joyous music, we entered the quaint town 
of Oban — an out-of-the-way place, where tourists 
gather, for a brief season, to enjoy its pure air, and 
ramble over its picturesque hills; and also to intro- 
duce luxurious notions among a people who have 
heretofore been satisfied to live on oat-meal cakes 
and porridge the year round. 



124 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

All about this place are beautiful views, and in or 
near this region are the scenes described in Scott's 
*'Lord of the Isles." Here was the theater of the 
contests between the M'Dougals and M'Leods; and 
scattered about are many interesting relics. On a 
finely kept estate of the M'Leods, about a mile from 
town, is one of the interesting remains of those war- 
like times; namely, Dunnolly Castle. It is situated 
on a bluff several hundred feet high, and overhang- 
ing the waters of Loch Etive. Old gray walls inclose 
its three sides; the fourth commands one of the most 
beautiful views my eyes ever rested upon, — such 
variety of mountains and dales, and bays and trans- 
parent waters, where all is multiplied and reproduced ; 

and 

" Islands there, empurpled bright, 
Float amid the livelier light ; 
And mountains there, like giants, stand 
To sentinel enchanted land." 

This princely estate has many pleasant walks and 
drives, and cool, shady retreats. Every part seems 
to contribute to a perfect whole. The huge gray 
rocks, that lie along the road, are adorned with ivy 
and the rich, russet hues of lichens and ferns and 
mosses. Great trees, that might have sheltered the 
M'Leod clans, are still lording it over the domain. 

A little beyond Dunnolly, and near the foot of 
Loch Etive, stands the famous castle of Dunstaff- 
nage. There, formerly, the kings of Scotland were 
crowned; and from that place was taken the Scone 
Stone, on which they were crowned. It is now 



ISLAND OF lONA. 12$ 

attached to the coronation-chair, at Westminster Ab- 
bey. Dunstaffnage is now an entire ruin, — 

" Wreck of forgotten wars, 
To winds abandoned, and the prying stars." 

From the shores of Loch Etive rise ruins and pal- 
aces, hills covered with foliage, and mountains cov- 
ered with mist, varied by promontories, bays, and 
islands. A rocky eminence, called ''the foot of 
the sons of Usnoth," is associated with the Selma 
of Ossian's poems. 

While at Oban, we took a steamer for a day's 
excursion to lona and Staffa, going through Loch 
Etive, and out amid the billows of the Atlantic. 
We first came to the island of lona, three miles in 
length and one in breadth. In 565, Christianity was 
introduced, and, as is said, this island was the light 
of that part of the world. It is now a lone, rocky 
spot, where are only some half-dozen low fisher- 
men's huts, the dismantled ruins of an old abbey, 
and an old but interesting church. Two curious, 
tall stone crosses loom up prominently — all that are 
left of the three hundred and fifty. Several prom- 
inent Scottish chiefs have had burial in this conse- 
crated ground. Shakespeare's Macbeth, and a num- 
ber of the early Saxon kings, lie under the mossy 
old stone slabs. That desolate island is seldom 
visited now, save by seagulls and wild storms. Little 
ragged children came running to us, begging us to 
buy common shells and pebbles. 



126 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Nine miles beyond lona, there rises from out the 
dark waters of the ocean a great natural temple. 
The front and sides are composed of gigantic col- 
umns, fluted, and perfectly jointed. The vast arch- 
way, or nave, is two hundred and thirty feet in 
length, seventy feet in height, supporting an entab- 
lature of pendant columns of thirty additional feet. 
These overhanging pillars are mottled by calcareous 
spots by which they have become incrusted, which, 
seen as we saw them, in bright sunlight, give addi- 
tional beauty to the grand structure. Scott, in his 
**Lord of the Isles," thus describes it: 

" Where, as to shame the temples decked 
By skill, of earthly architect, 
Nature herself, it seems, would raise 
A minster to her Maker's praise ! 
Not for a meaner use ascend 
Her columns, or her arches bend ; 
Not for a theme less solemn tells 
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, 
And still, between each awful pause, 
From the high walls an answer draws, 
In varied tone, prolonged and high, 
That mocks the organ's melody." 

There the winds and waves, in all their varying 
moods, are still chanting their great anthem of praise 
to the Creator. 

The day among these scenes was full of interest; 
but, in consequence of an accident to our steamer, 
we were compelled to lie nearly all night in the 
Sound of Mull. There being neither accommoda- 
tions for eating or sleeping, our stay was indeed 



TOURIST COMPANIONS. 12/ 

tedious; and the romance of the excursion turned to 
somber colors, as gray as the early dawn that saw us 
into the harbor of Oban. 

Nevertheless, we would cheerfully have borne 
still greater discomfort for the sake of seeing ^^Fin- 
gal's Cave in Staffa;" of which, away back in our 
earliest school-days, we had wonderful visions, that 
made it seem to us more like fiction than reality. 
But we know now it stands, a reality so strong and 
sure that the ever-restless ocean has beaten against it 
in vain for many, many centuries. 

Our plans of travel compelled us, after a week's 
stay at the romantic little village of Oban, to journey 
on ; and, in going from thence, our course was through 
a charming region, among the lochs and mountains 
of Western Scotland. 

The very commodious and handsomely furnished 
steamer on which we took passage, was quite filled 
with passengers from many lands and of many 
grades, — some American gentlemen from Hartford, 
Conn.; a family of ladies from Providence, R. I.; 
a party of English noblemen; a lord and lady, 
dressed in ^' sober livery;'' a fat marquis, with red 
hair and red face — but he was dressed in gray, and 
the marchioness dressed in plain black. There was 
the Bishop of Edinburgh, with his long, black, eccle- 
siastical coat, black breeches, black silk stockings, 
low shoes, and silver buckles. There were several 
soldiers from a Scotch regiment, dressed with kilt 
and breeches, plaid stockings, bare knees, scarf, and 



128 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

tassels. Their holiday had evidently been a gay one, 
and their spirituous libations rather too freely in- 
dulged. They made ludicrous attempts at dancing 
the Highland fling, after that most uninspiring of all 
music, a Scotch bagpipe. 

The mixed crowd, and the scenes around us, 
were full of romantic impressions; and, it seems to 
me, no portion of the British isles affords a more 
charming variety of natural beauty than lay along 
our route. As we entered Loch Leven, we left be- 
hind us the soft, misty scenes; and the mountains 
rose around, dark, stern, and tall; and over them 
was a look of primeval wildness. From this spot we 
witnessed one of the most impressive sunsets I ever 
remember. All around us lay gloomy, silent mount- 
ains, so solemn and mysterious they seemed the 
abode of ghostly spirits; and I would not have been 
surprised if, coming from their dark shades, we had 
heard the cry of the kelpie. At this hour, the sun 
had set in the west, under gorgeous bands of ver- 
miHon clouds. Long, brilHant rays shot up in the 
heavens, tinging the mountain-tops, while all around 
us lay in twilight shadows. 

Soon we landed at BallecuHsh, the point where 
passengers leave for Giencoe, the wildest gorge in 
Scotland. In that lonely glen, it is said, the weird 
poet, Ossian, lived; and there, in the midst of 
that lonely grandeur, he peopled his mind with those 
mystic images found in his poems. Here all these 
influences find form and expression. Sometimes his 



SUMMER IN THE HIGHLANDS. 129 

giant forms are enveloped in mist and vapors wan- 
dering over the moorlands; and thus his strains are 
sometimes bold and free as the mountain mist — 
sometimes craggy, or mossy and gray, as the rocks 
and glens wherein the poet dwelt. 

At the foot of Ben Nevis, in a wild spot, stands 
a new and spacious hotel, called the Lochiel Arms, 
where we spent the night. The air in that far north- 
ern region was very chilly, although it was in July. 
The brief Summer season in Scotland is intensified 
in its enjoyment, and, even because of its brevity, it 
is peculiarly rich. The color of the grass is intensely 
green, and the foliage of a deep, heavy color. The 
flowers, in their brilliantly penciled blossoms, excite 
not only admiration but sympathy, because they are 
born amid dissolving snows, and must so soon fade 
and die; for the few brief Summer days in that 
northern region are so soon followed by frost and 
Winter snows. The most common and abundant 
of the flowers that bloom on the Highlands, are the 
different species of saxifragas. With tenderness and 
beauty they cover the desolate places, mingling with 
mosses and lichens; and they fringe the entrance to 
the dark and cold ravines with a touch of Summer 
verdure. 

A commodious steam-packet was our conveyance 
up the Caledonian canal. This runs through a series 
of long, narrow lakes, connected by a broad canal, 
wherein are many locks. We went first through the 
wild district of Lochaber; then Invergarry, with its 

9 



130 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

river and castle of the same name. Some palatial 
abodes are nestled among the hills along the way, 
and many ruins. We passed through Loch Oich 
and Loch Ness. This, the last of the lakes, is 
twenty-four miles long. The lake and the valley are 
narrow; the hills rise abruptly on either side — some 
of which are barren and rocky, some clothed with a 
mixture of forest-trees, some with evergreens, and 
some with patches of grass and heather, with its royal 
purple blossoms. 

About four in the afternoon, we arrived at Inver- 
ness — a dull and dirty old town, lying way up in 

f the north-east corner of Scotland. Crowning a hill 
in one corner of the otherwise level town, stands a 
fine old castle, lately remodeled, and used as a 
court-house. From this spot one gets an extensive 
panoramic view. Away down south, in the valley, 
lies the battle-field of Culloden. One of the spe- 
cialties of Inverness is the manufacture and sale 
of Cairngorm jewels. The inhabitants generally, in 
dress, and in their abodes, seemed in a very prim- 

'f itive state. 

We wandered about the narrow streets, and 
into the stores, until overcome with fatigue, and 
found it was after ten o'clock; and still no dark- 
ness — scarcely a twilight. There the day dies slowly, 
and gently melts into a soft* twilight; and it seems, 
at that season, the sunlight scarcely fades from the 
tops of the western hills ere his coming radiance is 
signaled from the east. There was no real night; 



EN ROUTE FOR EDINBURGH. I31 

and the stars hung with a soft radiance in the 
twihght sky. The thick curtains drawn across the 
windows gave us our night. 

Leaving Inverness for Edinburgh, our route lay 
for some distance through a fine grazing country, 
and near the shores of Moray Firth. Turning south- 
ward, we came upon broad stretches of moorland — 
lonely, silent, desolate spaces; then came unbroken 
tracts of stunted forests. Then the hills drew near; 
and these swelled into mountains, with craggy tops, 
and bold, precipitous sides, cleft by great gorges. 
Here one may read a lesson of creative power. In 
the midst of all this. Cairngorm Mountain stands 
conspicuous, with its great, hoary form. Under its 
desolate surface lies a wealth of jewels and pebbles, 
that contribute largely to the manufacture and trade 
in Scotland. 

As we journeyed on, we came to finely wooded 
hills, and out into pleasant valleys; and anon came 
where are congregated the homes of many of the 
nobility of Scotland — where money and art have 
been lavishly bestowed. We had a running glimpse 
of the Duke of AthoFs estate, on which, it is said, 
he has fifty miles of nicely graveled roads, running 
through a splendid park, and along embowered 
avenues; and thirty miles of walks, winding among 
lovely scenes. 

At Pittochrie and Dunkeld center the most charm- 
ing views. Perth, of old historic renown, lies in 
a broad valley. Farther along, on an eminence 



132 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

above the valley, sits Stirling, crowned by Stirling 
Castle, about which cluster so many incidents of ro- 
mantic interest. As in the landscape, so in history, 
Stirling takes a pre-eminent stand. 



ill 







•'Sill ill 



ill' 'I 
I 



AT EDINBURGH. 1 33 



dli^j)tef XIII. 

ENTRANCE TO EDINBURGH — PARK — MONUMENTS — JOHN KNOX — 
HOLYROOD — MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS — ARTHUR'S SEAT — ROS- 
LYN CHAPEL — MELROSE ABBEY — ABBOTSFORD — SIR WALTER 
SCOTT — HIS BURIAL-PLACE — DRYBURG ABBEY. 

THE railroad-train that brought us from Stirling 
to Edinburgh crept into the latter place through 
a deep ravine, at the foot of a bold, rocky promon- 
tory that terminates in the center of the city. High 
and hoar, on this bold rock, stands the old Edin- 
burgh Castle. Above the town, above the very 
steeples, rise its battlemented walls. The precipitous 
banks below it are marked by jagged rocks, inter- 
spersed with grassy patches, shrubs, and small trees. 
On one side of this promontory runs a long ridge, 
on which stands Old Edinboro; and opposite, on 
another ridge, stand mostly the fine palatial abodes 
and broad streets of the new town. On this side, 
from the foot of the ravine, runs up a pretty park, 
in gradual terraces, with pleasant walks, trees, and 
flowers; and running on its border, opposite the 
castle, is the beautiful Princess Street, that, taken in 
all its aspects and surroundings, must be almost 
unequaled in any city. 



134 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Standing in the park, at the upper end of this 
street, are two very large buildings, the Art-gallery 
and Museum, built of light stone, and surrounded 
by Doric columns. Just beyond these stands a 
bronze monument to Professor Wilson; and not far 
from this the fine Gothic monument to Walter Scott. 

Along on this street, facing the park, are large 
hotels, stores, and private houses, built, like most 
of this portion, of light-colored stone, cut in large 
blocks, giving the buildings a massive appearance; 
while they are finished and ornamented in excellent 
taste. The streets are broad and clean. Numerous 
little parks and monuments of art give the city a sort 
of classical stateliness. 

We found the old town of Edinboro quite difier- 
ent in aspect, but even more interesting. There the 
streets are narrow, and the houses exceedingly tall, 
running up eight, nine, and ten stories high. Every 
spot and every house is full of historic interest — at 
least one would think so, listening to the numberless 
tales told by the guides. 

In High Street was pointed out the house of John 
Knox. Above a dilapidated basement are the best 
apartments, sitting-room and study. On the outside 
walls, cut in stone, is a rude design of John Knox 
in his pulpit, and, on the other corner, a small figure 
of Moses receiving the Commandments. The ten- 
ement, as it now stands, seems a plain abode for the 
wife of John Knox, who, we are told, was the 
daughter of Lord Ochiltree. A certain writer, 



JOHN KNOX. 135 

speaking of this marriage, says: ''She was but 
twenty years of age, resembhng, in her companion- 
ship with the Reformer, a bell-flower clinging to the 
side of an immovable rock." 

We visited St.* Giles Church, where Knox was 
buried; where head and heart were stirred anew 
with thoughts of the famous man, and admiration 
for his pure, truthful character, and for the moral 
and spiritual courage that nerved him to the per- 
formance of even disagreeable duties. We have 
reason to think his nature was kind and his sen- 
sibilities tender; yet, walking as he did in the 
light of the Spirit, his conscience impelled him to 
thunder forth eternal truths, and to hurl anathemas 
even at the queen of the nation. And over his grave 
the regent, Morton, pronounced this emphatic eulogy: 
''Here lies he who never feared the face of man." 
To do such a work as was appointed to Knox re- 
quires as much courage as grace; and the stern, 
uncompromising spirit he manifested in dealing with 
the highly gifted and refined queen, gives more 
occasion for commendation than for censure. 

Around this Church of St. Giles, where Knox is 
buried, cluster many other stirring memories, running 
away back to 854. This church was rebuilt in 1387. 
John Knox, in his day, preached here. James VI 
here, also, took leave of his Scottish subjects, before 
taking possession of the EngHsh throne. It is said 
that, in the palmy days of Roman rule, St. Giles 
contained about forty altars, and had an army of 



136 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

seventy priests for service. It is now divided into 
three parochial apartments for worship — the old, the 
new north, and the high. The latter contains a 
throne for the queen, or her representative, the lord 
high commissioner; pews for the magistrates of the 
city, and the judges of the Court of Sessions, who 
attend church in official robes. The ecclesiastical 
basis of this church is Presbyterian ; but somewhat 
of regal pomp lingers about it. 

Our readers will remember that, after the down- 
fall of Popery, the English Church determined to use 
here the Liturgy as prepared by Archbishop Laud. 
This did not suit the spiritual convictions of the 
sturdy Scotch; and the famous Jennet Geddes, in a 
singularly unceremonious way, settled the theological 
difficulty. When the officiating dean commenced 
reading the service, she took the stool on which she 
was sitting, and hurled it at his head. It did not hit 
the mark ; but effected a very important purpose, and 
ended the efforts for forcing an uncongenial service 
on the people. 

At the foot of the old town lies Holyrood Palace, 
its origin dating back to 1128. The larger portion 
is fitted up and kept in reserve for the use of Queen 
Victoria, who makes a brief stop on her way to and 
from Balmoral. In one time-stained room, of spa- 
cious proportions, the walls are lined with portraits 
of Scottish sovereigns — which might be studied with 
far more interest, but for the story that they were 
printed in a wholesale way by ^ Flemish artist, and 



HOLYROOD. 137 

not taken from time to time, and bringing something 
of individual presence. The apartments of Darnley 
are said to have remained intact. These, as well as 
those of Queen Mary, have about them an atmos- 
phere of gloom. The frescoes on the walls are dim; the 
tapestries faded and worm-eaten. The crimson hang- 
ings of the bed are dingy, and fast dropping to pieces. 
The silken covering of the bed is almost colorless; 
and the rows of once green ball-fringe that hang 
around, barely suggest former elegance. Massive 
carved cabinets and tables and chair are gloomy and 
grim with time and dust. Of course, every one 
looks with interest at the apartment where Rizzio 
was murdered, and at the private stairway through 
which the assassins entered. The Chapel Royal is 
full of suggestions of interesting events, to which the 
now beautiful ruin lends an additional charm. 

While standing there, we recalled the scenes of 
Queen Mary's marriage with Lord Darnley, and the 
very brief dream of happiness that followed; and we 
could but think of her with much commiseration. 
Gifted, as she was, with rare beauty and talent, and 
consequently accustomed only to adulation ; educated 
in the luxurious French Court, where no stern disci- 
pline entered, or rigid religious principles prevailed, — 
we do not wonder she lacked any feeling of sympathy 
with the Covenanters, and shrank almost in terror from 
the intrepid John Knox and his devoted followers. 
It was said of him, *^ His single voice could put more 
life into a host than six hundred blustering trumpets.'' 



138 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

We can but regard him as the God-given instru- 
ment to lead on the Reformation, and poor Queen 
Mary as the predestined sacrificial victim of Romish 
errors. A presentiment of coming evil pervaded 
her heart when, in returning to her native land, she 
stood, with streaming eyes, taking, as she said, her 
last look of her beloved France. A similar impres- 
sion seems to have been felt by John Knox, who 
writes thus of Mary's arrival in Scotland, thinking 
even the natural elements foreshadowed trouble : 

* ^ The very face of the heavens, at the time of 
her arrival, did manifestly speak what comfort was 
brought into this country with her; to wit, sorrow, 
dolor, darkness, and all impiety. For in the memory 
of man, that day of the year, was never seen a more 
dolorous face of the heavens than was at her arrival, 
which two days after did so continue; for, besides 
the surface wet, and the corruption of the air, the 
mist was so thick and dark that scarce could any 
man espy another the length of two pair of butts. 
The sun was not seen to shine two days before, nor 
two days after. That forewarning gave God to us; 
but, alas! the most part were blind." 

Knox, considering himself armed and commis- 
sioned of God, was quick to discover the signs of 
the times; and he did not use deHcate weapons in 
his conflict with Papists, nor smooth down the asper- 
ities of Romish errors. Scotland has evef occasion 
to honor this unswerving champion; and the pros- 
perity, strong religious faith, and purity — the healthy 



EDINBURGH CASTLE. 1 39 

intelligence and high culture that mark the Scotch as 
a nation — presents a broad and vivid contrast to the 
land of Italy, where Popery has held supreme sway. 
Truly, *^by their fruits ye shall know them." 

From Holyrood and its associations we naturally 
desired to go to the old Edinburgh Castle, the ap- 
proach to which is rather toilsome. After some 
moments' climb, we crossed a drawbridge that spans 
a very deep moat, and entered the ponderous gates. 
The court-yard is very spacious, and numerous build- 
ings, of varied shape and styles, go straggling around 
it. The greater portion is occupied by soldiers, as 
barracks. A few gloomy apartments, only, are 
shown to visitors, and a few relics; such as, in one 
room, portraits of Lord Darnley and the beautiful 
Queen Mary. Adjoining this room is a small one, 
eight feet square, where James VI was born. The 
crown-room has a few things of interest — the crown, 
the scepter, and the sword of state ; the golden collar 
of the Order of the Garter, present from Queen 
Elizabeth to James VI — the garter of gold, richly 
enameled and set with diamonds, having on one side 
the image of St. Andrew, the patron saint, finely cut 
in onyx. There is a ruby ring, set with diamonds — 
the coronation-ring of Charles I. 

Our next visit was to St. Margaret's Chapel, said 
to be about eight hundred years old. It is in a good 
state of preservation, of Norman style of architecture, 
the nave only sixteen feet by ten — curious only be- 
cause of age. 



140 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Groups of soldiers, in picturesque uniform, stood 
about the large court of the castle, cheering a little 
the gloomy aspect of things; but we liked better to 
see it at a little distance, where imagination could 
gild its defects. 

Among the fine buildings we noticed, were the 
Free-church College, hospitals, churches, and the 
famed Edinburgh University — a spacious edifice, 
whose entrance is marked by a noble portico and 
fine Doric columns. 

About the city of Edinburgh there is a finished 
appearance, and an air of restful quiet. The major- 
ity of the inhabitants carry with them a look of 
conscious superiority and settled dignity, that quite 
plainly shows they have a proud position, and little fear 
of being surpassed. We are willing to grant them a 
tithe of our homage, because, intellectually, morally, 
and spiritually, they deservedly take high rank. 

Then, too, they have much reason to glory in 
their artistic ornaments and achievements, that have 
won for that city the title of ^^ Modern Athens." 
We think picturesque Edinburgh has glory enough 
of her own ; and, in our minds, no place so throngs 
with legend, song, and story. In fact, it is peculiarly 
a land of legendary lore. Song and fable float in 
the very atmosphere, and come wafting in from hill 
and dale, touching one with a weird, subtile influence 
that hallows the surroundings. 

Full of this feeling, we went just outside the town 
to that old traditionary spot, Arthur's Seat. It is a 



ROSLYN CHAPEL. I4I 

bold, rocky promontory, rising up with three precip- 
itous sides, and sharp-pointed summit, over eight 
hundred feet above the sea. On the side opposite 
the town we made the hard ascent, with great fa- 
tigue, and for once were repaid for the effort. Word- 
painting can do scant justice to the scene. We were 
almost hovering over the city, comprehending all its 
prominent points. Beyond it, in one direction, 
stretched a great plain, whose dimpled hills increase, 
until they form a grand chain of misty mountains. 
In another direction lay a bright, blue, measureless 
extent of water, stretching on and on, until it blended 
with the heavens. On a fourth side were fertile 
plains, rich with golden harvests. Dark green woods, 
mountains, and sparkling waters, all mingled in 
the scene. Floating mist-clouds sailed slowly over, 
flecking the landscape with their light shadows. 
Here, as elsewhere, history and romance have woven 
their spell, and imagination touches it all with the 
aerial tints of fairy-land. 

A great number of interesting places in the vi- 
cinity of Edinburgh claim attention. Our first excur- 
sion was to Roslyn Chapel. Going by carriage, we 
wound among meadows and grain-fields, and passed 
through several old, unambitious little towns, that 
seemed never, for centuries, to have had a thought 
of change or improvement. At last, in a sequestered 
spot, among groves and meadows, we found Roslyn 
Chapel. Not far across the fields, on the banks of 
a ravine, stood Roslyn Castle. On the exterior of 



142 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the chapel the storms of centuries have left their 
mark, and over the crumbling stones have crept 
large patches of mold and moss. The interior is 
well preserved, and has been recently renovated. 
This structure is small, but, in proportion, high. 
The pillars are fluted, wound with flowers, and 
loaded with ornaments; the caps of the pillars are 
a mass of figures and flowers; the arches over the 
L** dies' chapel are marvels of skill. In short, it is an 
antique gem in carved stone, and really ' ' a thing of 
beauty." 

Our next trip was to the old ruins of Melrose 
Abbey, whose origin dates back to 1136. I found 
myself mistaken in regard to its situation ; for I had 
always thought of it as standing, in stately silence, 
apart from the working-day world. I found it hedged 
in on three sides by the little town of Melrose, and 
on low ground. Although it was inharmonious in its 
surroundings, it was strikingly impressive, and justifies 
the assertion that it is one of the finest specimens of 
Gothic architecture in the British Isles. Cruciform in 
shape, its massive walls stand high and strong, their 
crumbling portions held together by ivy. The deli- 
cately cut Gothic ornaments are many of them well 
preserved; the chancel roof nearly entire. The 
great nave and transept are covered only by the 
blue sky, and at night studded with stars. Scott 
truly says : 

*• If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
Go visit it by the pale moonlight." 




•iiiliilliiii 

::iii!iii I ill ™ 



111 



li i 



I' il 



I ■!■ 



ii. 



ABBOTSFORD. I43 

From Melrose is but a short ride over to Abbots- 
ford. The driver pointed out a fine forest, set out 
by Sir Walter, on a gently sloping hill; and at the 
foot of this, in a secluded position, stands the taste- 
ful and really elegant abode built by the poet. From 
the entrance-hall we passed first into the study, where, 
we were told, things remain as in Scott's life-time. 
Three sides are lined with books. His desk and ca- 
pacious chair stand in the middle of the room. The 
fourth side has a large window, opening upon a well- 
kept flower-garden. From the study we entered the 
library, where are ranged twenty thousand volumes. 
At one end of this stands a fine marble bust of Scott, 
by Chantrey; over the mantel, a large portrait of 
Lieutenant Scott. About the room are choice orna- 
ments and presents, — some curiously carved chairs; 
an antique ebony cabinet, presented by George IV; 
a purse, by Joanna Baillie ; a snuff-box, by Miss Edge- 
worth ; a large old leather purse, used by Rob Roy ; 
and many things that can not be specified. 

In the drawing-room were the family portraits, — 
Scotfs mother, wife, and daughters; Thomson, the 
poet; and many others. The armory is a museum 
of curiosities. This and several other rooms show 
Scott to have been a great relic-hunter. 

In one room are the arms and crests of all the 
different Scottish clans. Here, also, is a glass case, 
containing the last suit of clothes worn by Scott — a 
dark-blue coat, pants of small black and white plaid, 
a striped vest, white hat, and low shoes. 



144 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

I can give no more satisfactory description of the 
view from the front of the house than in these hnes : 

" The rising downs in vernal beauty swell, 
And, fringed with hazel, winds each flowery dell ; 
Green, spangled plains to dimpling cairns succeed. 
And Tempe rises on the banks of Tweed." 

From Abbotsford we drove, through a picturesque 
country, to Dryburg. When near the abbey, we 
crossed the Tweed in a small boat, pursued our 
course for some distance along a quiet lane, then 
turned and followed a narrow winding path that ran 
under the dark shade of thick trees, until we came 
upon Dryburg Abbey, which is a dismantled ruin- 
charming in outline, and beautiful for situation — em- 
bosomed in woods, around which the Tweed bends, 
and its waters murmur. There is a quiet, pensive 
loveliness about this ruin, that must have touched the 
heart of the poet, and made him desire it for his last 
resting-place. A 'dark, sad-looking, old yew-tree 
stands, like a venerable sentinel, guarding the spot; 
and there, it is said, it has stood for the last seven 
hundred years. 



HOLLAND. 145 



dljkptef XIV. 

HOLLAND — ITS ORIGIN — ITS ASPECT — TOWNS AND CITIES — 

ROTTERDAM — STRANGE SIGHTS THE HAGUE— PALACE IN 

THE WOODS — AMSTERDAM. 

NO country I ever saw interested me more than 
Holland. The history of the people, in their 
rise, progress, and power, is as marvelous as the con- 
struction of the country they inhabit; and a reading 
of the several volumes of Motley is necessary to a 
comprehension of either. 

A race of fishermen, gaining a foothold on the 
sandy deposits of the Rhine, the Meuse, and the 
Scheldt, plied their calling; and, meantime, fished 
up land from the sea, drove piles, dug channels to 
drain their spongy soil. And finally, from their am- 
phibious element, dry land appeared; towns and 
cities arose ; and then also, at times, arose the sea in 
its wrath, and came and swallowed them up. 

Thus the inhabitants long had constant contests 
with the encroaching sea, and with invading armies; 
but, with wonderful persistence, patience, industry, 
and courage, they persevered, and fought until they 
conquered all, and secured - their religious and polit- 
ical rights. Foot by foot, they formed, along their 

10 



146 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

extended coast, a mighty barrier, that presumptuously 
says to the sea, ^ ^ Hitherto shalt thou come, and no 
farther; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." 
Nevertheless, they have to exercise eternal vigilance, 
that the ceaseless waves do not break through. 

To assist in draining their soil, they have brought 
the winds into their service; and one of the most 
marked features of the land are the innumerable 
windmills that, with their broad, flying wings, look 
like flocks of giant birds. These pump up the marshy 
places, turning the water in channels, and keep in 
motion stagnant streams. 

Among all the pictures in my memory, none 
stand in more clearly defined characters than the 
unique ones of Holland. It was a sunny day when 
we left the tossing waves of the German Ocean, and 
glided into the Meuse, and ran quietly along its 
willow-fringed shores. Quaint old towns seemed 
sleeping in the peaceful landscape; white sails dotted 
the green meadows; steeples seemed to rise out of 
the water; and I felt in a maze, wondering whether 
water and land were not changing places. And I 
was not quite settled on the subject, even when we 
stood on the stone-built quay of Rotterdam; for the 
boats were so mixed with the houses, and ships were 
walking through the streets '^like a thing of life." 

The city of Rotterdam has features and charac- 
teristics quite unlike any I had before seen. And 
yet they had a half-familiar look; for Washington 
Irving had long ago given us such vivid pictures of 



PEOPLE OF HOLLAND. 1 47 

the same type, in ^'Knickerbocker's History of New 
York." Here, in the streets, were the same Vans and 
Vons, bearing the same prominent corporosity; here the 
same good vrows— soHd, healthy, industrious, and scru- 
pulously neat. The door-sills were white as chalk; 
the young maidens, in clean, purple calicoes, with 
little white caps, were carrying a yoke across the 
shoulders, from which were suspended brass milk- 
cans, that shone with unsullied luster. Children, 
clad in simplest garb, were abundant; but with clean 
clothes and clean faces, and beaming with health. 
The old brass knockers on the doors looked like re- 
fined gold; and snowy-white muslin curtains hung 
against the little old windows. 

In all the turnings of the nations and the world 
upside down, these stable people sit down satisfied, 
with the gables of their houses still turned toward 
the streets; and economize space by spreading each 
successive story of their dwellings beyond that below 
it. And as sometimes the foundation settles a little, 
they stand before their neighbors in most obsequious 
attitude. Looking along the old streets, there is such 
a broken outline as to suggest that the builders were 
at a game of ''hide and seek." 

By the side of the canals, that run through the 
streets, are sometimes carriage-ways, and sometimes 
only foot-paths; occasionally some little parks and 
gardens, and trim trees; but nothing spontaneous — 
every thing made after a pattern. However, they 
combine pleasantly walks, bowers, artificial islands, 



148 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and little lakes. ^^ Water, water every-where." Ruskin 

has happily said of it : 

** A land that rides at anchor, and is moored ; 
In which they do not live, but go aboard." 

At the time of our visit, Rotterdam was in the 
midst of one of their annual fairs; consequently 
was quite filled with country peasants, whose dress 
formed an interesting feature of the gay scene. 
There were old men in cocked hats and velvet knee- 
breeches; women in short, stiff skirts, long, narrow, 
embroidered aprons — some in blue petticoats and 
black jackets, brightly embroidered; some men in 
short, wide breeches, and steeple-crowned hats, and 
wooden shoes. The apparel of the middle classes — 
their curious caps, and bonnets that look like inverted 
coal-scuttles — were marked objects to us; but still 
more striking is their peculiar style of ornaments. 
We saw some with broad gold bands running around 
the head; others clasped the temples, and from them 
were suspended long gold pendants, of various 
shapes. From some of these bands projected pieces 
that resemble blinders on a horse's bridle. It is said 
large sums of money are often expended on these 
fantastic ornaments, which are, like their garments, 
worn in the same style from generation to generation, 
yet always there in fashion. 

The sights from my window were varied and un- 
familiar. Across the canal, just opposite, stood a 
straggling row of Dutch houses. The fronts were 
ornamented with strange devices, the steep roofs 



DOMESTIC CUSTOMS. 149 

crowned by stork's nests; and chimneys and masts 
of vessels mingled. 

Up and down the canal, swing-bridges were one 
moment crowded with foot-passengers, and the next 
turning quietly around to admit the passage of ships, 
perhaps from the far-off Indies, or any other portion 
of either hemisphere; and the rich merchant, who 
lives above his own warehouse, sits smoking in his 
office, and is aroused from his soothing occupation 
by seeing some gigantic vessel stop at his door. 
Directly under our window stood a loaded boat, one 
of those permanent homes of some thrifty Hollander. 
Instead of buying a stationary house, they prefer a 
floating one; and thus, when doing business, the 
wife and children can always be at hand, both for 
assistance and company. A gayly painted boat is 
the first installment of the prospective bridegroom; 
and, on their bridal tour, the bride cooks, cleans, 
washes, and steers the boat. 

I watched with interest the domestic operations 
of the boat just under my window; saw the clean 
white curtains at the stern windows, and the good 
vrow darning stockings when the supper was over. 
The children's, play-ground was on the deck. I did 
not, however, see the little garden set apart in one 
corner for vegetables, as is said often to be done. 

Not far from our stopping-place, in a square, was 
a large water-basin, where the market was held 
among the various canal-boats laden with vegetables. 
Along the streets there were often seen dog-teams 



150 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

harnessed to little carts, some loaded with veg- 
etables, and some with great polished brass milk- 
cans. The shafts were held by women, who carried 
large whips. As these dog-teams sometimes come in 
contact, the old adage is verified, that ^^dogs delight 
to bark and bite;'^ and sometimes there is a general 
melee between dogs and drivers. 

Our visit happening at the time of one of the 
great annual fairs, the streets were full of strange 
sights; and, as we went out at evening, the beer- 
gardens were filled with the fumes of ale, tobacco- 
smoke, and music. Some of the peasants, dancing 
in wooden sabots, made a clattering equal to any 
minstrel clog-dancers. 

All along the streets, the reflection of lamps in 
the water made a fairy-like picture. A great fete 
was to be held at a little park, where was music, 
flowers, playing fountains, and a charming arrange- 
ment of colored lights. We desired admission; but 
the children of our party could not be admitted. 
Consequently, we merely got a peep through the 
gratings, and saw crowds of well-dressed, nice-looking 
people entering; and we reluctantly returned to our 
hotel. 

One of the amusing sights, among the many nov- 
elties one sees in the strange cities of Holland, is 
the comical faces in front of the druggists' shops, 
called ^^ gapers.'' Each one seems to have just 
been swallowing a disagreeable potion; and each 
particular face has peculiar features, and expression 



QUAINT SCENES. 151 

calculated to revive reminiscences of seasickness. 
Trying to read the signs is such a natural thing to 
do, but in Holland, of all places, most puzzling; and 
the shrewdest Yankee would not even guess them 
out. '^Steambooten,'' one sees plainly, means steam- 
boat; but who would guess that ^^ Hollandsche 
Spoorweg'^ meant railroad-station? Who could inter- 
pret such mottoes as are placed above the entrance 
to the houses: '^Mign Genegenhied is voldam" — my 
desire is satisfied; or *^ Vriendschap en Gezelschap'' — ■ 
friendship and sociability; ^^Grachten" for canal; or 
that * ^ Ophaalbruggen " means draw-bridge? The lan- 
guage is not stranger than the sights, — the tall red 
brick houses and pointed gables, and the passmg of 
ships and boats and fantastically painted crafts, with 
their gilt prows, strange vehicles, and strange costumes. 

In the midst of all the bustle and business along 
the streets, there is a constant purifying operation 
among the housewives, who do not confine their 
ambition to the windows, the outside of the houses, 
and doorsteps, but the pavements and street in front 
of the houses. Such perfect neatness was very refresh- 
ing to us, dust-begrimed travelers as we were; and 
it gave us a momentary home-longing, and rebuke for 
our vagabond life. 

We left Rotterdam, with its quaint sights, its 
canals and bridges, boats and ships, and by rail went 
hurrying across green meadows and numerous waters 
toward the Hague. In passing Delft, it was not 
the town that impressed us, but the fact that, away 



IS2 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

back in the past, it was a haven of rest and security 
to the praying bands that had been driven from home 
and country; and prominently in imagination stood 
a picture of the Speedwell leaving the port, freighted 
with a consecrated company, who were coming to 
plant the standard of the Cross in the wilds of 
America. We saw them led by the pillar of cloud 
by day, and the pillar of fire by night, and landed 
safely on Plymouth Rock. 

An hour's ride from Rotterdam brought us to the 
Hague. This, with its white and light-colored stucco 
houses of modern styles, and fine architectural struc- 
tures, the many broad streets, numerous flowers, and 
vines, gardens, canals, and bridges, seemed the most 
fascinating, strangely fanciful, yet real, scene I ever 
beheld. 

Both guide-books and travelers had warned us 
against the covotousness and ^* sharp practices'' of 
guides; and yet, in order to economize time, we en- 
gaged one, who not only swindled us, but brought to 
his assistance some railroad officials. Being utterly 
ignorant of their language, we were victimized until 
we felt, as we had in other countries, that, whatever 
faults might be found in America, as a nation we 
were, in point of real integrity, honor, disinter- 
ested kindness, and generosity, far above those who 
boasted of the accumulated knowledge, culture, and 
religious growth of centuries. It is seldom in Amer- 
ica one sees such artifice, such efforts for fleecing 
travelers; and never, I think, for such small sums. 



THE MUSEUM. 1 53 

One of our visits at the Hague was to the Mu- 
seum, where, as usual, are stored objects of interest 
to the curious, and many good pictures by Dutch 
artists and others. The two most prominent pictures 
are: ^^ Lessons in Anatomy," by Rembrandt. The 
subject is not pleasing, but the striking and finely 
painted portraits grouped around the dead body are 
classed among Rembrandt's best efforts. However, 
the crowning interest of the gallery centers in the 
masterpiece of Paul Potter, ^^The Young Bull." 
This is painted on a landscape of great breadth and 
fine perspective. There is a dome-like sky, and 
a fine finish in the foreground, that show the com- 
prehensive ability of the artist. In the left-hand 
corner of the picture are five life-size figures, — two 
sheep, a cow lying quietly in the shadow of a tree, 
a man leaning against the tree-body, and near him a 
young bull. Landseer's animals are marvelously per- 
fect ; but they are so smoothed and refined by the 
polish of the artist's brush, and have a look as if 
half-humanized by intercourse with man. Rosa Bon- 
heur's animals are full of spirit, and show nerve and 
muscle in full play; but Paul Potter's have all the 
latter, and are instinct with life and breath. And this 
bull, as he stands with head erect and dilated nos- 
trils, seems just snuffing the morning air, and shak- 
ing the dew from his flanks; and one almost expects 
to see him bound from the canvas, so really de- 
ceptive is the representation of life. This picture, 
once carried to the Louvre by the French, was 



154 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

bought by the Hollanders, and replaced where it 
rightfully belonged. 

We saw a choice collection of pictures at the 
house of M. Wiemer, — exquisite miniatures and cab- 
inet-pictures, by Mieris, Jan Steen, Teniers, Gerard 
Dow, De Hoog, and many others. Although it is 
his custom to admit strangers into what seemed, in 
all its arrangements, an every-day family-room, I felt 
like an intruder, and stepped softly, and spoke in 
whispers, to avoid the censure, so often passed on 
Americans, of loud talking and over-free manners. 
It is a generous act on the part of private gentlemen 
thus to bestow favors on strangers. 

We drove a mile out of the city to the ' ' Palace 
of the Woods," where the queen resides. The ex- 
terior of the palace is extremely plain; but each room 
we saw was, in its way, a gem. In one, the walls 
were hung with Japanese hangings of white silk, em- 
broidered, chairs and divans to match, and also 
many rare and curious ornaments. A similar ar- 
rangement, of Chinese, for another room ; then came 
others, with cabinets, vases, and choice articles of 
virtu; a picture of the queen, with a remarkably 
sweet face, and a young man, apparently as old as 
herself, called her son. The ball-room, lighted by a 
dome, was elaborately painted by Reubens and 
Jordaens. On one side opened a window upon a 
flower-garden. The palace had evidently been fur- 
nished under the personal supervision of a person 
of exquisite taste and culture, and had nothing of 



TO AMSTERDAM. 155 

the unindividual, spacious, cold, gloomy air of nearly 
all other palaces. 

The Hague, though quite unlike Rotterdam, is no 
less a wonder. In fact, all Holland is unique and 
unprecedented. It is truly the northern Sphinx. As 
we went on our way toward Amsterdam, every thing 
had a strange, bewildering aspect. Thrifty towns 
and smiling fields seemed floating in water. Inter- 
lacing all the scene ran smooth, white roads, bor- 
dered with willows; these recrossed by canals and 
bridges. The presence of whole bevies of boats, 
floating on to market; great lumber-rafts, coming in 
all the way from Switzerland; the teeming, wealthy 
cities, and beautiful suburban towns, — -humanize the 
landscape. Otherwise one might believe the whole 
scene a mirage, a fairy delusion. Along the low, 
sandy shores stand great sentinel wind-mills, that, 
with their tireless wings, beat back the encroaching 
waters of the threatening sea. Thus the works of 
the Hollander give one the impression of an almost 
supernatural agency; but a traflic with the very 
shrewd, avaricious people convinces one how thor- 
oughly all earthy they are, and that vigorous health 
and undaunted perseverance can accomplish wonders. 

It is but a two-hours' ride from the Hague to 
Amsterdam; but it brings days of thought to pass 
over the distance. There, on the way, is Leyden — 
once so strong to fight the Spaniards, birthplace of 
Rembrandt, and for centuries the seat of the learned 
University. Then comes Haarlem, to the botanist a 



156 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

harvest-field, and to the lover of music a wonderful 
organ. But ahead of us on the Zuyder Zee, lay old 
Amsterdam, a city that seemed afloat; and yet, when 
we landed, and started by carriage for our hotel, the 
New Amstel House, a ride of a mile over the rough- 
est of stone pavements convinced us some portion, at 
least, had a local foundation. 

The houses, tall and tottering, with little windows, 
and water streets, were just like pictures on canvas 
I had seen long ago in New York; but here was life 
and motion, and a scene difficult to describe. This 
city, of twelve miles circumference, lying at the con- 
fluence of the Zuyder Zee and the Amstel, is sur- 
rounded by water, crossed and recrossed, and inter- 
laced by canals; along some of which run broad 
streets, lined with modern, magnificent houses, that 
will bear comparison with some of the finest in 
Europe. The divers canals divide the city into in- 
numerable islands, and are crossed by two hundred 
and fifty bridges. All the houses are built on piles; 
so that, as Erasmus said, ^^the inhabitants, fike 
crows, live on the tops of trees.'' 

It is interesting to study the origin and develop- 
ment of this people, and to note the influences that 
molded them into the brave, self-dependent, pros- 
perous nation. While Italy, with all her boasted 
prowess and honors, degenerated and languished, and 
other countries were torn and wasting by contending 
factions, especially in the sixteenth century, then the 
United Netherlands * Splayed the sublimest part'' on 



AMSTERDAM. 1 57 

the world's stage. Then they showed that the foun- 
dations on which they had built were religious and 
political freedom. One of the texts in their statute- 
books ran thus : ' ' The Frisians shall be free as long 
as the wind blows out of the clouds, and the world 
stands." In that soil was nurtured the spirit that has 
since pervaded our own institutions. 

In their contests for religious freedom, they 
showed that, behind their physical and political 
strength, they had gleaned, from the well-conned 
pages of their Bibles, the spirit and power of the 
true Gospel; and little Holland stood, a Goliath 
among the nations. We, in this country, have to- 
day to thank her for the protection and encourage- 
ment given to the homeless Pilgrims. When that 
noble band left their temporary shelter, they came 
laden with the blessings and prayers of the Hol- 
lander. Those seeds, sown in prayer and faith, 
•have brought forth a rich and abundant harvest. 



158 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikptef XV. 

FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN — IMPRESSIONS — CHURCHES — ART — 
ARIADNE — "GOETHE'S VATERHAUS " — THE POET'S BIRTH- 
PLACE — WORMS — THE DIET AT WORMS — LUTHER'S MONU- 
MENT — HEIDELBERG CASTLE — BADEN-BADEN — ILLUMINA- 
TIONS — STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 

WHEN we were children, studying geography, 
Frankfort-on-the-Main was to us wonderfully 
significant ; and that city gleamed from afar upon our 
mental vision, all unlike the city we afterward came 
to look upon with our bodily eyes. As children, we 
had no just conception of those narrow, tortuous 
streets; nor of the houses looming up eight and ten 
stories — -one-half of which is in immense roofs, along 
which run tiers of little windows. 

Then, too, how strange are the paintings and 
ornaments, which the wear and war of elements 
have played upon for six and seven hundred years, 
and, with history, thrown a charm about them, so 
that one does not tire of the winding ways and 
grotesque relics ! 

But this ancient city is quite taking on modern 
airs and fashions, spreading out, with broad streets 
and fine shops, until the whole city is now encircled 



CHURCH MUSIC. 1 59 

with modern, stately houses, of varied styles, painted 
in light tints. And sitting, as they do, among gar- 
dens, flowers, and trees, they are really charming. 

A highly cultivated American lady, who has been 
for many years a resident of Frankfort, told us much 
of society and family life, which gave us most favor- 
able ideas of their high culture and true refinement. 
Much more than Americans in general, we believe, 
they combine ^^ plain living with high thinking;" and 
with simple entertainment and high discourse, with 
music and cheerfulness, they meet often, and enjoy 
life far more rationally than many of our city people. 

While we greatly admire their social and educa- 
tional ideas, we demur over their skepticism, and we 
can not be reconciled to their manner of keeping the 
Sabbath; but we like the manner and spirit of their 
worship. The sermons appeal more to the heart 
than to the intellect. Emotional feeling comes warm 
from the heart, and reaches the heart; and grace 
and song fertilize the soil into which the good seed 
is dropped by the sower. 

Germans, far better than we, understand the 
power and uses of music. When the congregation is 
assembled, they stand and sing three or four times 
between reading the Scriptures and prayers. Then 
follows a brief address; then, again, singing. In the 
midst of the sermon comes an interlude; then sing- 
ing again. The hymns are full of spiritual fervor, 
sung by men, women, and children, with the spirit 
and understanding. 



l60 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

How different from our country, where the mu- 
sical service is performed too often by a hired quar- 
tet, who ambitiously aim at a display of the science 
of music, without even a touch of tenderness! This, 
compared to real worship, is as a skeleton to a vigor- 
ous, beautiful body. When a full congregation, with 
united sentiment and fervor of spirit, join the full 
chorus of sacred song, as it wells up and rolls 
through the aisles, how its spiritual fires melt all 
hearts! The whole being is softened and elevated, 
and thus, sometimes, more inspired to earnest devo- 
tion than by prayers or sermons. How this spirit of 
song-worship swept over Germany before and during 
the Reformation ! Luther knew and felt its resistless 
power, and it was to his purposes more efficient 
'^than an army with banners." Nowhere does the 
spirit of Luther more strongly speak than in his 
hymns and music, which seem to pervade the atmos- 
phere of the places of worship. 

While speaking of the things we so much approve, 
we would not omit to mention the reverence and 
tender remembrances of the Germans for the dead. 
As the doors of their churches are always open, so 
are the gates, inviting the visitor to their ^* Court of 
Peace," where they thickly strew the beds of their 
sleeping friends with flowers, and hang fresh chaplets 
on the monuments and against the more simple 
ornaments. We like this affectionate care. 

In the way of art, Frankfort did not afford any 
very great treat. At the Stadel Museum, we were 



WORKS OF ART. l6l 

Strongly impressed with the representation of Huss 
before the Council of Constance. Lessing has almost 
given to those pictured forms blood and vitality, so 
that one's feelings and sympathies are at once 
strongly enlisted; and impressions are received, 
never to be effaced, of the earnest faith and suffer- 
ings of Huss, as well as of the cruelty and malignant 
passions that lie under the gorgeous vestments of 
those Romish hierarchs, who have condemned him 
to the flames, and seem enjoying the ghastly spec- 
tacle. '^Ezzeline in Prison," is a picture we really 
coveted; but there are few others for which we broke 
the Tenth Commandment. 

From the picture-gallery, over which we expended 
no enthusiasm, we went to Rethman's Museum, to 
see the crowning art-glory of Frankfort, Daneker's 
Ariadne. We entered a little temple-like building, 
where, in a side cabinet, that is hung all around by 
maroon curtains, in the center, on a revolving ped- 
estal, stands that wonderful statue, Ariadne. She 
is carelessly seated on a heavy-limbed panther; her 
right-arm rests on the head of the animal, while her 
left-hand lightly holds her falling drapery. Her head 
is wreathed with vine-leaves, and her face, with a 
strong tinge of sadness, nevertheless expresses a tri- 
umphant victory over her misplaced love. The light 
and shade that fall on the statue are effectively ar- 
ranged, and, as it is slowly turned on the pedestal, 
Ariadne seems a living presence. 

Among the fine bronze monuments, we will only 

II 



1 62 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

speak of one or two. In the Ross Market stand 
the colossal statues of Guttenburg, Faust, Schofer, 
the inventors of printing; and, around the base, the 
heads of thirteen other printers; a fine bronze 
statue of Schiller, in the Schiller Platz; and opposite 
the theater, in the open space, is a very fine statue 
of Goethe. 

We happened to run down to Frankfort, from 
Romberg, on the anniversary of Goethe's birthday. 
All available places around his monument were hung 
with flowers, and people came in great numbers with 
their votive offering of flowers. One fine, intellectual- 
looking man approached us, as we stood by the 
monument. Seeming to recognize us as Americans, 
he sought, in the German tongue, to inspire us with 
somewhat of his supreme admiration for the poet. 
He made spasmodic efforts to make us understand 
him; gesticulated like a Frenchman, while his eyes 
were swimming with tears. We fully understood 
^*the spirit, if not the letter.'' 

This enkindled in us a fresh desire to visit the 
house of Goethe's father, where the poet was born; 
now used as a literary club-house. We noted, over 
the door, the old coat-of-arms, in the form of three 
lyres; and entered a hall with rooms on either side, 
and, at the end of it, a large room, or square court, 
from the center of which runs up broad stairs, with 
railings on either side. The second floor, is used by 
the members of the club; the third for the Goethe 
relics — such as many family portraits, portraits of 



FRANKFORT. 1 63 

their personal friends and many distinguished and 
learned persons. Several portraits of the poet repre- 
sent him at different ages, from boyhood to eighty 
years of age. In the room where Goethe used to 
study are the various editions of his works, his man- 
uscripts, and his little plain wooden book-case, used 
by him when he was a boy. In his mother's sitting- 
room stands some curious old furniture — tables, 
chairs, a work-box, and a cushion on which she used 
to weave German lace, one of the accomplishments 
of that day. The house, for those times, was quite 
a pretentious one, and, to us, full of interest; as it 
always is to me to visit the shrines of the gifted or 
the truly good. On our way back, we went to see 
the leaning old house on the Dom Platz, where 
Martin LutTier stayed for a time, and used, from a 
little balcony, to preach to the people assembled on 
the platz. 

So far as possible, we felt inclined to see the 
places and scenes associated with Luther; and con- 
sequently decided to go to Worms by way of May- 
ence, having before traveled the route to Heidelberg, 
although the latter route is by far the most interest- 
ing. From Mayence, the whole region was covered 
with vineyards, and all the towns seemed but an ad- 
vertisement of different kinds of wine, and suggested 
little else. 

The Rhine and the vineyards were so nearly on 
a level, the steamers seemed walking among the 
latter. We hailed with pleasure the tall cathedral- 



164 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

tower that marked the location of the city of Worms. 
Although we were landed in its suburbs by steam-cars, 
and steamboats landed Rhine passengers not far off, 
there was about the town an atmosphere of isolation 
that almost made us homesick. In all its character- 
istics, this city seems apart from the world of the 
present day, unchanging and unchanged for genera- 
tions. From the windows of the tall houses the 
neighbors can almost reach across the narrow streets 
and shake hands; scarcely any two are of the same 
height or size, the gables all stand toward the streets, 
and the storks still hold unmolested reign among the 
chimney-tops, while the inhabitants travel in the same 
ruts worn by bygone generations. 

We stopped at the inn called the ^^Old Emperor," 
for aught we could judge to the contrary, standing 
there in the days of Charlemagne the Great, who, 
tradition says, was married in the then flourishing 
city of Worms. Every thing about the house 
and furniture was like a story of the past. The 
massive chairs, tables, bedsteads, were unmistakably 
of early date. The great tall white porcelain stove, 
with its bright, broad bands, and balls of brass, was 
the only cheerful thing about our room. This same 
room, being on the second floor and in front, was 
the best in the house; and Ave could easily convince 
ourselves that Emperor Charles V, or some of the 
mitered Romish dignitaries, had sat in the tall, straight- 
backed chairs, and, in secret caucus, formed plans to 
confound and entrap the poor Wittenburg monk. 



THE LUTHER MONUMENT. 16$ 

Our first object of interest was Luther's monu- 
ment, which we hastened to find. It seemed impos- 
sible to find any one who could give us a direction 
in plain English. At length, addressing a bright- 
looking man, he pointed to a corner, saying, ^^You 
go zare, turn to ze right, und keep alvays to ze right, 
und you find him.'' The suggestion was good, 
though the direction was not very plain. We found 
the monument in the midst of a pleasant little square, 
where was an abundance of flowers and shrubs. 

The base of the monument is of a drab marble, 
with bluish tinge, and it is highly polished. It is 
ascended by several steps. On three sides, a low 
wall is ornamented with life-size figures, in bronze, 
of Luther's co-workers. In the center of the monu- 
ment, on a tall pedestal, stands a grand figure of 
Luther, around whom is grouped several more figures. 
They are all of very fine bronze, and have a most 
life-like expression and atmosphere. 

As Moses absorbs the interest and admiration, 
apart from all his people, somewhat so to me stands 
Luther. All Germany is like a garden, and all the 
country pleasant, adorned by art, elevated by sci- 
ence, and justly esteemed for its literature and high 
civilization; yet last, but not least, lies the interest 
in the fact that it was the chosen field for the great 
battles of the Reformation, of which Martin Luther 
was the glorious champion. 

The seeds of truth had long been buried in 
monasteries and churches, under pomp and ceremony 



1 66 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and gaudy trappings, that had taken the place of 
apostoUc simplicity; but, whedi God saw the times 
ripe for the accomplishment of his purposes, he 
raised up one whom he fitly endowed for the grand 
work. The more one looks into the train of events 
and influences that led to the Reformation, the greater 
the interest in the man whose mission it was to re- 
establish the rights of humanity and the just claims 
of the Gospel. 

Reformations are not the result of a sudden 
^'emeute,^^ but the bursting forth and flowering of 
long-suppressed influences. In churches and in mon- 
asteries, in the mountains of the Waldenses and in 
the lowlands of Holland, there were, in the Roman 
Church, godly men, in whose hearts the true fire was 
smoldering. A distinguished writer remarks that, all 
along, there had been ' ' earnest opponents of eccle- 
siastical pride, and scandalous errors, and ill morals." 
He further says: ^^ Luther in embryo lurked under 
the cowls, went girt by the cord, walked in the 
sandals of a hundred monks — preaching patches of 
truth, and uttering piecemeals of protest — centuries 
before the famous Wittenburger collected and molded 
these disjecta 7nemhra into one body, armed by God 
with flaming sword to smite the pretender who 

* Sat upon the Seven Hills, 
And from his throne of darkness ruled the world.'" 

A marked example of this is seen in the instance 
of the bishops of Treves and Cologne, in the year 
860, when, after having been cited to Rome, in 



PROTEST OF THE BISHOPS. 167 

consequence of using their prerogative to think dif- 
ferently from the Pope, he at once cut them off from 
all privileges. Brandt gives the letter of the inter- 
dicted bishops, which, in the repetition of historical 
events, came up again, in substance, at Augsburg, 
some hundreds of years after. The letter of the 
bishops to Pope Nicholas closes thus : 

^^God has made his queen and spouse, the 
Church, a noble and everlasting provision for her 
family, with a dowry that is neither fading nor cor- 
ruptible, and given her an eternal crown and scepter; 
all which benefits, you, like a thief, intercept. You 
set yourself in the temple of God. Instead of a 
shepherd, you have become a wolf to the sheep. 
You would have us believe you supreme bishop; you 
are rather a tyrant. Under the mask of a pastor, 
you hide your horns. 

' ' Whereas you ought to be a servant of servants, 
as you call yourself, you intrigue to become lord of 
lords. Whatever you desire, you think lawful; thus 
you have become a deceiver of Christians. For all 
these reasons, neither we, nor our brethren and 
friends, regard or submit to your commands, know 
not your voice, and fear not your bulls. You con- 
demn all for irreligious and impious that do not obey 
your despotic precepts, forbidding them the use of 
the sacraments. "We smite you with your own, 
because you bring the commands of God into con- 
tempt, dissolving the unity of spiritual assemblies, 
and violating peace, the badge of the Prince of 



l68 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

heaven. The Holy Ghost is the builder of all 
Churches, as far as the earth extends. The city of 
our God, of which we are citizens, reaches to all 
parts of the heavens; and is greater than the city, by 
the holy prophets named Babylon, which pretends 
to be divine, equals herself to heaven, and brags 
that her wisdom is immortal, and finally, without 
reason, that she never did err nor ever can.'' 

Over seven hundred years after this letter was 
written, the very essence of its spirit and principles 
was concentrated in the Wittenburg monk; and it is 
not alone as a man we view him, but as God's in- 
strument, to bring light out of darkness, and order 
out of confusion. As such, he is ever, and in all 
conditions, of absorbing interest, from the times 
when he sang in the streets for bread, when he 
groped slowly for the truth, to when he arose in full 
power. 

When the scales fell from his eyes, how like a 
giant he stalks through Germany! What almost su- 
pernatural wisdom was evinced in his intellectual 
contest with Cajetan, the Pope's legate, at Augsburg! 
At times, what humility and conscientious fears 
pressed upon him, lest he was not rightly interpreting 
the Scriptures, or rightly leading others ! Out of this 
darkness and doubt, however, his triumphant faith 
led him: and, in those most stirring times, his courage 
was always sufficient for the occasion. 

In all history, there are few more striking pictures 
than that of the Diet at Worms, where bishops and 



FROM HEIDELBERG. 1 69 

cardinals in gorgeous vestments, and princes and 
crowned heads, sat in courtly array on one side, and 
on the other stood one lone, unfriended man; not 
alone, though, for God was with him. It was there 
Luther rose, in his intellectual and moral strength, to 
such a measure of sublimity as to dwarf all his 
surroundings. 

Traces of this Protestant triumph still linger about 
that spot; and a reverence for the Sabbath, one of 
its sure signs, was shown by the closed shops and 
stores of a large portion of the town. But Roman- 
ism still holds a footing, as we also saw. Just 
opposite our Old Emperor Inn stood a blacksmith- 
shop, and the blowing, pounding, hammering, was 
kept up from early dawn on Sunday until evening, 
stopping only for meals, which was a brief interlude, 
as the family lived above the shop. And they were 
so inconveniently near us they not only broke our 
morning rest, but made us feel, uncomfortably, how 
far away we were from the land of Pilgrim principles. 

From Worms, our route lay by way of Heidel- 
berg — a place of which, in pleasant weather, one 
would not soon weary; but time did not admit of 
our remaining long. We, however, received fresh 
impressions of the valley, the hills, the castles, and 
the forests of Odenwald. 

From Heidelberg toward Baden-Baden, the flat, 
fertile country is bordered on the east and south-east 
by the ^^ Black Forest,^' and on the west by the 
Vosges Mountains. We passed through the country 



r/O SCENES IN EUROPE. 

on the birthday of the Duke of Baden; and from 
every old ruin, castle, tower, and hill-top floated 
banners, or flags of black and white, or orange, red, 
and white. At Baden-Baden the town was especially 
brilliant, and at evening a grand fete, with a most 
marvelous display of fireworks, with wizard-like and 
beautiful devices. There was mirth and enjoyment, 
such as one only sees among foreigners. They seem 
never, like us, to be carrying such a load of care; 
and never pack their troubles down to make room 
for more. 

A fine band played all the evening. The display 
of fireworks over, there was a grand illumination of 
the park, the hills, the Kursaal. A gathering around 
the little tables followed, with eating and drinking; 
yet every thing was conducted in a quiet, decorous 
manner. And among the many well-dressed ladies, 
none were gaudily, or even showily, dressed; al- 
though diamonds of surprising size and magnificence 
were numerous. Since the abominations of the Kur- 
saal are abolished by the laws of the Prussians, we 
will say nothing of those beguiling, bewildering 
scenes. 

For a long inhabited country, like Baden, it is 
wonderfully wild. The valleys are shadowy, lying 
among groups and broken links of hills covered with 
dark forests. The streets of the town are irregular. 
Long, shady avenues of thick trees run through the 
center of some of the streets, affording pleasant 
walks for pedestrians. Rising abruptly above the 



STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 171 

town, on the jutting crag of a great hill, stands the 
castle of the Duke of Baden, called the New Schloss. 
Back of this, and far above it on the hill-side, stand 
the remains of the Old Schloss, where one sees less 
of the town, but more of the Black Forest, that 
looks the fit abode of goblins and bandits and 
wild beasts, such as children's story-books used to 
abound in. 

From Baden-Baden to Strasburg the country is 
level. The sluggish, willow-fringed streams, and 
long avenues of poplars, in some respects, reminded 
us of Holland. 

Strasburg, with its tall houses, and narrow, 
crooked streets, seems essentially German. The 
terrible effects of a most destructive siege mark 
many portions. A chain of formidable fortifications 
stretch quite around the city, and a standing army 
of ten thousand soldiers, with abundant supply of 
arms and ammunition, are kept there. 

To us, the one absorbing object of interest was 
the Strasburg Cathedral, which was placed on that 
spot away back in the centuries. Some happily 
endowed individuals had a revelation or conception 
of wondrous beauty, which flowered in this perfect 
Gothic form. They molded it in stone; and it stands, 
a lofty, glowing monument, so pure and perfect one 
could wish it might endure through all time. 

In architectural purity and beauty it is unsur- 
passed. The walls of the front facade rise broad 
and high, and are quite loaded with decorations and 



172 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

appropriate figures. The edge of the roofs is thickly- 
set with glistening pinnacles, and high from the 
midst shoots up the lofty spire, whose fine point 
seems to touch the stars. While taking an upward 
look at this miracle of height, it adds not a little to 
one's sensations to think of it as the highest human 
structure on the earth, rising, it is said, forty feet 
higher than the cross on the dome of St. Peter's, 
and twenty feet higher than the gigantic pyramids 
of Egypt. 

In the first division of the facade are four figures 
on horseback, — Clovis, Dagobert, Rudolph of Haps- 
burg, and Louis XIV. The pediments over the 
doors, and the vertical moldings, are enriched with 
numberless statues in relief^ and these instill some- 
what of a spirit of life in the cold stone, and ^ ' in- 
telligence into mechanical substances." He who first 
fused and molded this organic mass with the fire of 
his genius was 

** A great master of bis craft, 
Erwin Von Stienbach ; but not he alone, 
For many generations labored with him. 
Children that came to see the saints in stone, 
As day by day out of the blocks they rose, 
Grew old, and died. And still the work went on, 
And on, and is not yet completed. 

The architect 
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones, 
And with him toiled his children ; and their lives 
Were builded with his own into the walls, 
An offering unto God." 



STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 1 73 

The language of those lives is easily read. There 
is in it a vital force, full of eloquence, truth, and 
^ exalted sentiment, that inspires noble feelings and 
pure thoughts. 

One can not give a satisfactory picture of the 
interior, with its vast, shadowy height, its clustering 
columns, with their rich capitals, or the gracefully 
springing arches, and all the luxurious and elegant 
ornamentation, over which there is an air of purity 
and harmony, and a sacred dimness in the subdued 
light that falls through the storied windows. 



1/4 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dl(kj)tef XVI. 



FIRST VISIT TO THE CONTINENT — STRANGE IMPRESSIONS — 
BRUSSELS — COLOGNE — THE RHINE — ROLANDSECK — COB- 
LENTZ — ** BLUE MOSELLE " — BINGEN — MAYENCE — HOMBERG 
SPRINGS — SIGHTS — TAUNUS MOUNTAINS — FELDBERG. 

MUCH as we have seen of Europe recently, 
there are no memories that stand out more 
clearly than the impressions received when, for the 
first time, we were set down on the Continent, at 
Calais. Going on the night-boat from Dover, we 
were met at the landing-place by darkness and con- 
fusion of tongues. Heavily laden with shawl-straps 
and satchels, we hurried after the crowd, stumbling 
over a long, rotten dock, and almost came to grief, 
until, finally, the extent of our annoyances came 
upon us in a ludicrous light, and we burst into a 
hearty laugh. This indulgence proved a healthy 
restorative, and, with fresh courage, we hurried on, 
until we found a cab for the station, where we were 
soon safely deposited. By the time the custom-house 
officers and baggage had all been disposed of, and 
the train ready to start, it was daylight. 

Weary as we were, there was no time for rest or 
sleep in the midst of these unfamiliar sights. How 



AT BRUSSELS. 1 75 

eagerly my eye ran over the broad, flat landscape! 
Smooth, white roads, rmming between rows of Lom- 
bardy poplars, stretched through the country in vari- 
ous directions; here and there were clusters of little 
low plastered cottages, with red-tile roofs. Women 
delved ifi the fields, and rustic beauties 

** Raked the meadows sweet with hay." 

Numerous giant windmills swung their arms about 
with lazy motions; and occasional imposing chateaux 
could be seen amidst fine old trees. Through such 
scenes the train sped swiftly on, and soon landed us 
at Brussels — at its foot, as we found; for in going to 
our hotel we seemed to have a constant climb. 

How strangely picturesque seemed the Spanish- 
gabled houses and curious ornamental designs, how 
narrow the streets, and how hard the jolting over the 
rough cobble-stone pavements! Then, too, to see 
burghers and peasants, well-dressed ladies and gen- 
tlemen, women with little dog-carts, all rushing along 
through the middle of the streets; and when their 
life seemed imperiled by some fast-driving cabman, 
we trembled for their safety. The Jehu, with a loud 
crack of the whip, sent them hastily to the wall. 

We were set down at a commodious hotel, and 
shown to pleasant rooms, from whose broad windows 
we looked into a charming park, where fine shady 
avenues, winding walks, statues, flowers, invite either 
to exercise or rest. 

Gur rooms also invite^ to rest, so clean and cool, 



176 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the ^^ patchwork" floors so highly poHshed, the 
comfortable lounge, the cozy round-table, where 
our meals were tediously but well served, — all 
this was new and charming. Our sleeping-room had 
a floor of different pattern, and two little narrow 
beds, covered with lace spreads, which were lined 
with bright color. The beds stood foot to foot, 
having large pillows at the head, and the inevitable 
*^ duvet,'' or large pillow of eider-down with some 
fanciful cover, on the foot. Toilet arrangements 
good, and mirrors ■ on all sides. Two sperm can- 
dles, always, we found temptingly placed for use, 
and the mere lighting of which always insured a 
charge of sixty cents. A large porcelain stove, and 
two or three small rugs, completed our sleeping 
apartment. 

Of course, after far too little rest and refreshment, 
we went out. Following the old maxim, '* Business 
first," went to the lace-houses, and then to see the 
laces made, as well as the women who put out their 
eyes in making delicate fabrics to adorn their more 
fortunate sisters. So the world goes. 

I confess to far more enjoyment elsewhere, wan- 
dering through the park, even though I was beset by 
beggars; looking upon the old palaces that cluster 
about the park, and dreaming of the past, of the 
scenes of political power, intrigue, and strife. And 
not without a thrill' of horror did I remember terrible 
scenes that were there enacted, during the reign of 
the ^* Bloody Alva," painted in blood and flame. So 



COLOGNE. 177 

that, in the midst of those gilded palaces, my mind 
was busy running over the pages of history, dwelling 
mostly on the fiery struggle between Romanism and 
Protestantism; and fancy saw characters, painted in 
blood and flame, that quite dwarfed present scenes. 

Among things of interest in Brussels are its pic- 
tures and studios, and a grand church, of vast 
dimensions and great height, with groves of col- 
umns, and numerous storied windows, glowing in 
rich colors, through which comes the daylight melted 
into a poetic tint. A time there was, when here the 
zealous Reformers rudely broke up the chanting 
mass, and scattered priests, and removed what they 
considered ^^the graven images,'' and ^^ idols.'' Be- 
reaved art still weeps over the ravages of the icon- 
oclasts; but when idols stand between man and the 
Supreme Being, they are by some means to be 
removed. 

The bloody battle-field of Waterloo had not suffi- 
cient attractions to pay for a long ride on a hot day. 
We left Brussels for Cologne, gliding rapidly, by 
train, through a well-cultivated country, where were 
groups of familiar trees, groves of larches and bal- 
sams, clusters of steep-roofed houses, tall churches, 
long avenues of poplars, and numerous windmills. 
All these rose with almost a mirage-like effect on that 
broad, flat country. 

As we neared Cologne, there were suggestions of 
hills. But above these, and above all other objects 

at Cologne, looms its mighty cathedral. Like a great 

12 



178 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

guardian spirit, its lofty spires and finely pointed pin- 
nacles, rising so far heavenward, carry the thoughts 
upward, and, by this subtile influence, seem to help 
one to mount for the time being above the clogs of 
materialism. 

We walked about it, looking in wonder and admi- 
ration; thought how far back in the ages it was 
created, of the vast sums expended ; but, most of 
all, we thought of the faith, the enthusiastic devo- 
tion, the religious zeal, that had reared such a shrine 
for the worship of God. It has been said, ^^The art 
of each nation is a picture of its faith on the national 
life." Thus, doubtless, the inspiring cause that 
reared and embellished the Gothic cathedrals of 
Europe was the religious fervor that burned in the 
hearts of the people. Their works seem to have 
been wrought by hands ordained to the holy task; 
and the faith of builder, priest, and people took such 
beautiful organic forms. 

They are the Gothic elements of our nature, 
molded and expressed in stone, and have in them- 
selves an enduring influence on the religion, the 
arts, and literature of nations, and from century to 
century speak their imposing language. ^^The songs, 
the sighs, the faith, that are entombed in these mon- 
uments of the past, are living and contemporaneous 
voices,'' forever elevating, cheering, and refining 
poor, struggling humanity. There is about them a 
presence that touches the heart with high and holy 
influences, that overcomes groveling desires. If 



COLOGNE CATHEDRAL. 1 79 

some are so happily constituted that they can, at any 
time or place, shake oif the world, and need no such 
extraneous influences, it is well for them; but we 
confess to the aid and congeniality of such sur- 
roundings. 

After we had walked about this great Cologne 
Cathedral, and marked well its majestic outline and 
adornings, we crept in through a low door, passed 
through the dark vestibule, entered the body of the 
great church — and a new and glorified world burst 
upon us. It was flooded with sunlight, that poured 
in through the richly stained windows, filling it with 
a thousand rainbow-hues, that floated through the 
air like waves of music. The morning was a festal 
occasion, and a long procession of priests, in white 
i»obes, were marching around the aisles in this col- 
ored light, and chanting in unison with the great 
organ. The sound rolled up, and swayed among 
the arches and vaults and columns. All the influ- 
ences were beautifully impressive; and a spirit rightly 
attuned to worship might be aided by such aesthetic 
elements. We do not advocate useless pomp or un- 
meaning ceremony, nor in the least tolerate the 
errors of the Romish Church; but we Hke the great 
temples that rival Solomon's, because in those visible 
forms of sublimity we see the organic essence of 
enthusiastic devotion, and an expression of God-given 
power that has enabled men to rear them. 

Our readers are so familiar with that old city of 
Cologne we forbear any remarks, and only mention 



l80 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the view from our window. The Rhine ran past it, 
and the landing of the steamers was close at hand. 
A little above us was the bridge of boats. A little 
farther on, the magnificent ^ ^ Rhinebriick " stretched 
from shore to shore, so high above the water that 
steamers run under it. Opposite us lay a portion of 
the city, with its queer houses, towers, and steeples. 
Just after sunset, from those old church-towers, the 
chime-bells rung their vesper music, which came 
floating across the water in softened tones to us. As 
the twilight gathered, a thousand lamps, from city, 
gardens, and bridges, sprang up, and sent long rays 
of light down in the water. Away up the Rhine 
rose prominent mountain forms; windmills swung 
their white arms; and a new moon gilded all the 
scene — one to which *^ there can be no farewell." 

We were favored with a sunny morning as we 
started on our trip up the Rhine. For some distance 
above Cologne, there is little of interest. The river 
winds lazily among the low banks, giving little prom- 
ise of the charming scenes in advance. At length, 
the Rhine begins to expand into majestic proportions, 
and to move with swifter current. Vine-clad hills 
rise on either side; and castle-crowned heights, rich 
in legends and historic stories, lie all along. Little 
green islands, like emerald jewels, dot the bosom of 
the river. Successive towns stretch along the banks, 
seeming almost a continuous city. Opening here 
and there, between the mountain gorges, there 
stretch out verdant valleys, thickly besprinkled with 



ROLANDSECK. l8l 

hamlets, lying so still and peaceful they seem a picture 
of a dead past. 

Above Cologne, one of the first old castles of 
importance is the Rolandseck— a feudal ruin, that 
has battled with wars, time, and tempests, and now 
forms a shattered crown to an almost perpendicular 
mountain. 

The legend of this castle and the island opposite 
is, that Roland, who was the lordly proprietor, and a 
very brave soldier, went to war and gained many 
laurels. A false report of his death induced his 
beautiful wife to enter a convent on the island of 
Nonerworth, lying just below the mountain. Roland 
returned, flushed with glory, and full of anticipations 
of meeting his beloved wife, and found an eternal 
barrier placed between them. He built his castle 
opposite the mountain, that he might ever gaze on the 
walls that held his treasure. The willows now droop 
mournfully around the shores of this island, as if in 
secret sympathy with the memory of the unhappy 
nun and her heart-broken Roland. 

It were vain to attempt to enumerate legends or 
places, all of which are blended with the history of 
wars and songs and brave knights. In my memory 
Audernach, whose twin church-spires and grand old 
of places, among those that stand out brightly is 
watch-tower rose up and beckoned to us in the far 
distance, and, when we drew near, gave us, in de- 
tail, one of the most perfect pictures among the all- 
varied scenes. 



1 82 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

We found, at and around Coblentz, very much of 
interest. As we entered, at our left, on a high hill, 
almost walled against the skies, stood the massive 
Fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, ' ' the Gibraltar of the 
Rhine." Around Coblentz are many seats of ancient 
nobility. Quite beyond all these, reaching away off 
in the misty distance, lies a rich pastoral valley, 
through which winds the waters of the *^blue 
Moselle,'' coming to mingle with the Rhine. 

Just beyond, and above the town, stands the 
Castle of Stolzenfels. Its height and outline seem 
to entitle it to its significant name, ^^ Proud Rock;" 
above which rise the quaint gables and towers of the 
castle. This was once used as a fortress by war- 
loving bishops. It now belongs to the King of 
Prussia, and from its topmost tower we saw floating 
the Prussian flag. In this region, the crowning 
glories of the Rhine seem to cluster. 

Among the prominent objects are St. Goar and 
the grand old castle of Rheinfels. Near by, rising 
abruptly from the water, is a bald, black rock, of 
almost mountain size, called ^^ Lurleifelsen." Here 
resides a wicked nymph, or siren, who by her sweet 
voice draws to her dangerous abode the unwary 
boatmen, and drowns them in a whirlpool near by. 
We were not entrapped by the siren ; but just in this 
region a storm, that had rapidly gathered, burst 
furiously upon us. The trees swayed in the strong 
wind, and the river was lashed into foam. The 
thunder came in startling peals, and echoed from 



MAYENCE. 183 

mountain to mountain. Fierce lightnings played 
among the stern ruins, lighting with momentary- 
gleam the broken arches and crumbling towers. 
The storm was as brief as severe; the clouds rolled 
away, and settled down in the west; and the setting 
sun threw up, from behind them, gorgeous gleams 
of golden light, that tinged the hill-tops and the 
towers and steeples of the famed city of Bingen — by 
a strange coincidence resembling the last dream of 
Mrs. Norton's dying soldier, who 

" Was born at Bingen, 
Fair Bingen, on the Rhine." 

At this twilight hour, the peasants were coming 
home from the vineyards, singing their * ^ German 
songs," — 

" And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, 
The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and 
still." 

Such a day of overcrowded enjoyment, as well as 
fatigue, made us doubly enjoy our clean rooms and 
a nii^ht of rest at Mayence. 

Next morning, we rambled about this town; 
marked its garrisons and large numbers of soldiers; 
strayed through its crooked, narrow streets, into its 
market-square, where, in little temporary booths, 
might be purchased all sorts of ** notions;" saw 
scores of fat women, with broad-brimmed hats, sit- 
ting in the midst of baskets of vegetables, serving 
customers, or knitting while customers were scarce. 

From Mayence we went direct to Romberg 



l84 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Springs, a place where nature wears a sort of Eden- 
like aspect, having charming parks and gardens, 
shady nooks, flowers, walks, and drives under long 
avenues of stately trees; but amidst it Satan reigned 
fearlessly, showing both ^Hioofs and horns.'' His 
dwelling-place was chiefly in that gorgeously gilded 
palace called the ^ ' Kursall f and there, in the 
midst of bewildering splendors, his unwary victims 
daily become more and more fastened in his meshes. 
Fortunately for that country, the law of the Prussians 
has driven his ^* Satanic majesty" from his strong- 
holds, both at Homberg and Baden-Baden. 

About a mile distant from Homburg runs a semi- 
circular range of hills, called the Taunus. On one 
of the prominent ones are the remains of an old 
Roman fortification. To this is a pleasant and inter- 
esting excursion; and another, still more so, is to the 
Feldberg, the highest point of the Taunus Mountains. 
Going from the town toward this point, the road 
leads, first, for a mile along an avenue of poplars, 
and then enters a dark pine wood. The ground is 
all cleared of underbrush; there are no limbs on the 
trees, save at the top, where they reach out and in- 
terlace so thickly that not a ray of sunshine seems 
to penetrate through, and it seemed like a great, 
somber, stately temple. There was perfect silence, 
and no way-marks, save an occasional shrine or cross. 
The road ran in nearly a straight line for four miles. 
When near the mountain-top, we came to an opening 
that gave some promise of what was to follow. 



THE TAUNUS, 1 85 

On the top of the mountain, quite above all ob- 
structions, is built an observatory, from which it is 
said one can get an unintercepted view over an am- 
phitheater of four hundred and fifty miles in circum- 
ference. Looking to the east, there stretches, far as 
the eye can reach, a country abounding in fertile 
beauty, and covered thickly with towns and cities, — 
conspicuous among which shone the gilded towers 
and spires of Frankfort. At the south, almost at our 
feet, lay several towns and ruined castles; at the 
west, Mayence and Bingen. Away up the Rhine 
were seen cities and hills and ruins, till they were 
lost in mist; and to the far south, as a background, 
were mountains, and the Black Forest. This was a 
scene I shall ever brightly cherish, and 

" In this clime, where 't is my lot to dwell, 
I often shall recall, as by a magic spell, 
Thy scenes, dear land of poetry and song ; 
Bid thy fair statues on my memory throng, 
Thy glorious pictures gleam upon my sight, 
Like fleeting shadows o'er the Summer night, 
And send my haunted heart to dwell once more, 
Glad and entranced, to that delightful shore." 



l86 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



C$likj)tef XYII. 

FROM FRANKFORT TO HEIDELBERG — HEIDELBERG CASTLE — 
MUNICH — CHURCHES — THE KING'S PALACE — ART. 

THE country lying in the region of the Oden- 
wald is justly celebrated; and I wish it were 
in my power, by a few master-strokes, to produce a 
panoramic picture of the hills, the valleys, the ruins 
and forests, that lie along the way, and thereby im- 
part some small share of the pleasure we experienced 
amidst those scenes. 

Heidelberg, in learning and literature, is like a 
city set on a hill — giving light to all the world. In 
reality, we found it sitting low in the valley; at the 
foot of the two great hills, the Jetenbuhl and Kunig- 
stuhl. The town runs in a long narrow strip, the 
streets are narrow, and lined by dingy old houses. 
The most noticeable persons are the big fat market- 
women, who sit under the shadow of broad-brimmed 
straw hats, preparing vegetables, or knitting, while 
patiently waiting for customers; and the knots and 
files of students, attending the celebrated university 
located in this place, in colored caps> with faces 
disfigured by scars and patches. These are blots on 
their characters, and blots on the institutions. These 



HEIDELBERG. 1 8/ 

f 
Students fill the town with their presence, and the 

air with smoke. 

But the interest of the tourist centers not in any 
of these things; for, on a jutting crag up the mount- 
ain-side stands the famous old castle that has filled 
the pages of history full of its thrilling events. In 
its historic interest, in a measure, lies the charm; but 
in position and stately grandeur, I doubt if it is ex- 
celled. Mrs. Jameson says, ^'Not the Coliseum of 
Rome, in itself, nor in I^ord Byron's description, can 
be more grand in moral interest, in poetic association, 
and in varying and wondrous beauty." 

I was all impatience to wander among those de- 
serted halls; but one must needs take time for rest 
and refreshment. Never, to me, did table d^hote seem 
so tedious, and I could scarcely be civil to the 
clerical-looking waiters, who so prolonged the useless 
ceremony. Taking a landau, with scarlet linings, as 
a reminder of former pageant, we started, by way of 
the broad avenue, to the castle. At the foot of this, 
some pleasant modern houses have been set under 
the shadow of the broad spreading trees. We went 
on, and up, under the great portcullis, with its hideous 
looking teeth, and we were landed in the court-yard. 
There, in the midst of that huge, desolate structure, 
may be seen successive styles of architecture and 
ornamentation. In innumerable niches stand stone 
statues of the electoral families, looking upon one 
mournfully from out the past. Then come knights, 
overhung with old armor, and many featureles statues, 



l88 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

that time has turned into mummies. As one looks 
upon these mementos of the by-gone ages, **it is 
like the history of a fallen empire in all its epochs," 
read in crumbling walls and figures. 

Procuring a guide, we wandered through the som- 
ber apartments, where were great yawning fire-places, 
clumsy sculptures, and some beautifully wrought mold- 
ings around arched windows overhung with cobwebs. 
The ravages of man have left little for the eye; but 
in spirit I wandered away back in the past, and, in 
those *dusky rooms, felt surrounded by the shadowy 
beings of a legendary world. 

Following from room to . room, we came to the 
apartments added by Frederic XVI, for his gay and 
talented wife, daughter of James I, and granddaughter 
of Mary Queen of Scots. The lightning had long 
since rendered them dismantled ruins, and the winds 
and storms had long beat ruthlessly into apartments 
once brilliant with luxurious splendors, and gay with 
courtly revels. 

We climbed above these, and up a tower command- 
ing a magnificent view. At our feet lay the town; 
to the north stretched a green, luxuriant valley; and 
in the distance wandered the Rhine, of which we 
caught now and then a glimpse. To the left, far 
away, runs a blue line, that marks the range of the 
Vosges Mountains; to the right, the great Odenwald 
forests. Over the extended plain lay scattered towns 
and cities. The setting sun gilded towers and stee- 
ples, while a twilight hue was gathering over the plain. 



MUNICH. ^ 189 

The oak-crowned hill at the back of the castle threw 
long, brown shadows far below us; and the Neckar 
went noiselessly along its course among the green 
fields. No satisfactory picture can be given of this 
crowning monument of the mediaeval ages. History, 
art, and time, have all invested it with a wondrous 
charm. Centuries of Summers have come to adorn 
it with shrubs and trees, and folds of ivy have been 
thrown over its rents and crevices. Garlands have 
been hung against its broken walls, and green pen- 
nants wave from the watch-towers, as if to make 
amends for departed splendors. 

The route from Heidelberg to Munich is through 
a country abounding in picturesque beauty and his- 
torical interest. Sitting in the midst of an elevated 
plain, we found the city of Munich, a relic of an- 
tiquity, with striking modern adornings. The old 
city presents some of the most curious specimens of 
tall houses, with stucco walls, on which are painted 
grotesque figures; and above these the broad steep 
roofs are perforated with little windows, suggesting 
port-holes in a man-of-war. The streets are crooked, 
and the houses as varied in size as style ; and, if they 
may be taken as a type of the inhabitants, they are 
certainly marked by individuality and originality. 
As striking as the buildings is the dress of the differ- 
ent classes; and mingling freely about are numerous 
soldiers, in their handsome uniforms of dark green, 
trimmed with scarlet. 

The new streets of the city are broad, and the 



190 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

buildings palatial in size and style. The late kings 
of Bavaria have been such lovers and munificent 
patrons of art, that a stimulus has thus been given to 
their subjects, as is shown in their monuments. Among 
the most beautiful buildings to me was the Church 
of St. Louis, designed by Professor Gartner, in the 
style of Byzantine Gothic. It is built of brick, but 
faced with white marble, and the front ornamented 
with statues by Schwanthaler. The interior is frescoed 
by Cornelius and his pupils. It is lighted by the 
richest stained-glass windows, canopied by a heavenly 
blue, set with brilliant stars. In the center of the 
transept is a magnificent dome. In all its atmos- 
phere it has a rich and harmonious and cheerful 
effect. 

Many other churches, interesting to those brought 
in contact, would by detail give little interest to the 
reader. The Palace Chapel, however, must not be 
omitted. The walls of the interior are of marble, in 
different colors and mosaic patterns, intermingled with 
gilding and frescoes. The chapel is lighted by two 
large domes or cupolas. These are supported by 
immense marble columns. Around the domes are 
frescoes, representing first, the Old Testament scenes 
of the Creation, the Deluge, the sacrifice of Noah, and 
the Covenant; and at the corners, Noah, Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob; around the other, scenes from the 
life of the Virgin and the twelve apostles. It seems 
that Solomon's temple could scarcely have been more 
perfect and beautiful. 



KING'S PALACE. I9I 

By the side of Hofgarten is a square planted with 
trees, and ornamented with walks, where stands the 
palace of the King of Bavaria. His direction to De 
Kleuze, the artist, was: *^ Build me a palace, of 
which nothing, within or without, shall be of transient 
fashion or interest; a palace for my posterity and my 
people, of which the decoration shall be durable as 
well as splendid, and shall appear one or two cent- 
uries hence as pleasing to the eye as now." In the 
letter and spirit, the artist fulfilled the command. 

To give a graphic description, far more time must 
be given for study than is granted to an ordinary 
sight-seer. In the long suites of elegant rooms, each 
has its distinctive features, and its story, as told by 
the art embellishments. The smooth stucco walls 
have the perfect polish and look of marble, of beau- 
tiful varieties. The ornamentation is on the frieze, 
the latter mostly very broad; the figures in tinted 
outline, after the manner of ancient Greek paintings 
on vases. In these figures and conceptions, that bear 
the stamp of classical taste, is told the story of the 
** Iliad" and '^Odyssey," Orpheus and the Argonauts, 
and whole books of poems, both in Greek and Ger- 
man. The ceilings and pillars are painted with ara- 
besques and various ornaments. 

The throne-room is most impressive for its gor- 
geous splendor. The walls are a dead-gold ground, 
from floor to ceiling, and adorned with bass-relief 
figures in stucco. Around the frieze is a representa- 
tion of Greek games. On the walls are subjects from 



192 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

different poets, and over the throne the king's motto. 
The whole effect is very grand and harmonious. 

The old palace, that is in connection with this, has 
many objects of interest, both curious and costly. 
Among those the guide commented most largely upon 
was a bed, bed-cover, and curtains, whose original 
price was too fabulous to repeat. I suppose, even 
on that, some poor monarch may have experienced 
the truth of the old adage, '^Uneasy lies the head 
that wears a crown.'' 

There are innumerable objects of interest in and 
about Munich, — fine drives along broad, magnificent 
streets, under grand arches, and pleasant walks among 
the little parks and gardens. Through one of these — 
the English garden, a favorite promenade — runs a 
branch of the ^^Iser, rolling rapidly." It is spanned 
by several fanciful bridges. Seats and cafes are 
plenty, and music and dancing are there the Sunday 
evening entertainment for the peasantry. 

A little way outside Munich, stands the largest 
bronze statue in the world. The material is from 
cannon captured from the Turks at the battle of Nav- 
arino. The statue is for the Duke of Bavaria, mod- 
eled by Schwanthaler, and cast in the royal foundry. 

The central point of interest, and the crowning 
charm of Munich, are the art treasures of the Pina- 
kothek and Glyptothek, a visit to either of which 
marks an era in one's life. The Bavarians revel in 
music, painting, and sculpture. In this appreciation 
and patronage of the arts, they surely answer some 



INFLUENCE OF ART. 1 93 

at least of the great designs of our being; for God, 
in finishing with such perfection the tiniest flower or 
leaf that grows, as well as in adorning with such 
glowing beauty his greater works, not merely intended 
to minister to our enjoyment, but he designed we 
should be workers and imitators; that we might ex- 
pand, and the better appreciate his exalted powers. 
Neither does he bestow the gift of song that the poet 
might, in self-indulgence, sit rapt with the musical 
rhythm running through his own brain, letting the 
world live on its unmixed prose. It is evident, in all 
the refining branches of art, it is our privilege and 
duty to help carry forward the designs of our Creator. 

The influence and enjoyment of these different 
arts, as briefly and pleasantly given by Mrs. Jameson, 
will express our own feelings: 

^^As the graces round the throne of Venus, so 
Music, Painting, Sculpture, wait as handmaids round 
the throne of Poetry. *They from her golden urn 
draw light,' as planets drink the sunbeams; and, in 
return, they array Divinity, which created and inspired 
them, in those sounds and hues and forms through 
which she is revealed to our mortal senses. The 
pleasure, the illusion produced by music, when it is 
the voice of poetry, is, for the moment, by far the 
most complete and intoxicating, but also the most 
transient. Painting, with its lovely colors blending 
into life, and all its 'silent poesy of form,' is a source 
of pleasure more lasting, more intellectual. Beyond 
both is sculpture, the noblest, the least illusive, the 

13 



194 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

most enduring of the imitative arts, because it charms 
us, not by what it seems to be, but by what it is; 
because, if the pleasure it imparts be less exciting, 
the impression it leaves is more profound and perma- 
nent; because it is, or ought to be, the abstract idea 
of power, beauty, poesy — sentiment made visible in 
the cold, pure, impassive, and almost eternal marble." 



VIENNA. 195 



dl\kptef XVIII. 

VIENNA VISITED DURING OUR FIRST TOUR, SIX YEARS PREVIOUS 
TO THE LAST — THE VISIT OF THE SULTAN — WHAT WE SAW — 
ART-GALLERY OF PRINCE LICHTENSTEIN — OLD PALACE OF 
MARIA THERESA — ST. STEPHENS — VIEW FROM THE TOWER — 
LASCHENBERG PALACE — HOMEWARD RIDE. 

THE frequent letters that have come recently 
from ^'our special correspondents," have made 
Vienna and its scenes almost as familiar as household 
words; but, as its main characteristics remain un- 
changed from generation to generation, we may 
perhaps be excused if we even go back a little in 
our record of experiences during our first visit to 
Europe, in 1867. 

We arrived in that great city the day after his 
Supreme Majesty, the Sultan; and on whatever 
ground he sets his foot, in Turkish opinion, is his. 
Thus the soil on which so many fierce battles had 
been fought between Turks and Austrians was, by 
peaceable compromise, Turkish territory during the 
two or three days his royal foot trod the soil. 

The Austrian Emperor, to dazzle the eyes of the 
proud Turkish dignitaries, called out the military in 
full-dress, together with the nobility, who, with the 



196 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Ex-King of Hanover, all in State carriages, went 
down the Danube some three miles; whither we also 
went, to see the feats and ceremonies, and the 
throwing a pontoon-bridge across the river. The 
emperor and suite in full dress; the sultan and his 
suite, some seventy in number, being mostly in 
citizen's dress — two or three only in rich Turkish 
robes and turbans. The latter were a tall, well- 
developed class of men, that gave one favorable 
impressions of the race. 

There was the most picturesque and motley crowd 
I have ever seen, — the emperor, archdukes, and 
officers of rank in full-dress uniform, with numerous 
decorations ; common soldiers in blue pants, white 
coat trimmed with scarlet, and willowy white feath- 
ers. There were also private citizens in fashionable 
apparel; peasants from different districts, with their 
peculiar and often fantastic dress; and the usually 
large sprinkling of priests, in black robes and three- 
cornered hats — shaven-headed monks, in brown robes 
and gray. Two or three bands were present, dis- 
coursing inspiring music. At length, the ceremonies 
over, the royal cavalcade resumed their homeward 
march. As they moved off the ground, the cele- 
brated Strauss Band played the ^^ Turkish Hymn," 
that was full of tender melody and Oriental splen- 
dors — that wrought its spell at least upon my heart, 
and brought tears to my eyes. 

After this, we witnessed several royal pageants; 
and our republican eyes, after the first dazzle, began 



SOCIAL LIFE. 197 

to regard them with rather unfavorable emotions, 
since we realized that under all the gorgeous decora- 
tions are human hearts with the same frailties, sins, 
and sorrows that characterize the human race. Then, 
too, the fact was in so many ways impressed upon 
us that, to sustain the gilded pomp of royalty, the 
large masses were kept in servitude, ignorance, and 
degradation. 

What most shocked our American ideas was the 
uses to which women are put — coming in, as we saw 
them daily, like beasts of burden, and bent almost 
double under their enormous loads. Some we no- 
ticed from our window, working all day at the large 
town-pump; and at a building just opposite, in 
process of erection, women carried mortar up a 
ladder, in great buckets on their heads, while the 
men stood on a scaffolding, smoothing the plastered 
walls. 

The half-brutal, stupid look of the peasantry 
stands in painful contrast to the elegant high-born 
men and women for whom these menials are wearing 
out their miserable lives in ignorance and toil. The 
designs of our Creator for the progress and general 
good of the human race fail utterly in Austria; and 
we already begin to see the dawnings of a day of 
retribution. 

Some things there, however, we would gladly see 
imitated here. We like their out-door life — those 
gatherings in the gardens, where sociability and 
music rule the hour. It does not lessen domestic 



198 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

enjoyment, since father, mother, and children keep 
together; and the recreation, music, and good air 
keep men from other and more deleterious influences. 
In several immense and mixed gatherings, on festal 
occasions in and about Vienna, we greatly admired 
the quiet manners and perfect decorum that pre- 
vailed. Strangest of all, not even a loud voice was 
heard among the cabmen. 

We could record pleasant days in that city of 
many attractions, and also favorable impressions of 
its customs, deep enjoyment of its stores of art; and 
when I saw little, ragged, barefoot boys, with hat in 
hand, wandering through the Belvidere Gallery, 
standing before the Raphaels, Guidos, Titians, and 
so on, with a look of eager interest, I sighed over 
the shortcomings of our own country, where no such 
aesthetic culture is gratuitously given to the poor, — 
while there, as elsewhere in Europe, not only public 
but private galleries generously throw open their 
treasures of art. 

No one collection have we enjoyed more than 
that of Prince Lichtenstein, one of the first nobles 
of Austria. We found his palace sitting in the midst 
of fine old trees. About the court and corridors 
lounged many servants in gay livery. An old man 
of the number, who wore a few badges, and had an 
air of conscious importance, unlocked a massive 
arched door that opened upon broad marble stairs, 
from which we entered a hall of stupendous propor- 
tion^, From thisj we followed on through long suits 



CITY PALACE. 1 99 

of rooms, either of which, taken separately, pos- 
sessed untold treasures of art, that would make a 
man in these days esteem himself abundantly rich. 
The collection of Flemish pictures is especially fine; 
and among the twenty-five rooms there are few indif- 
ferent pictures. For generations these have been 
accumulating, and princely fortunes have been ex- 
pended in securing them. 

In that country of broad contrasts, one steps from 
sights of poverty to the palace. Notwithstanding we 
denounce the defects of royal institutions, we confess 
to a lively interest in viewing the palatial homes. 
There is about them a strong local interest, that 
smacks of the character and habits of those noted 
individuals, and we like to study the atmosphere and 
influences of their domestic life; therefore, we were 
anxious to visit the old City Palace, where, when 
Austrian power was at its height, Maria Theresa 
reigned, and that proud court dazzled the eyes of the 
world. It was with memory thronging with these 
historic scenes we entered, and took in a lengthened 
vista of fifteen successive rooms, whose sliding-doors 
stood back. We, in fancy, saw the imperious queer 
approach, deferentially followed by a courtly retinue . 
and the feeling almost, for the moment, filled us 
with awe. This, however, soon gave place to earnest 
observation. 

The floors, inlaid in various designs with colored 
wood, and smoothly polished, bear not the impress 
of home comfort we Americans so much prize ; and 



200 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the old, stiff furniture, so very uncomfortable, would 
soon be discarded by our ease-loving people. Then, 
too, much of it is so plain no fashionable New- 
Yorker would tolerate it, but at once consign it to 
the attic. 

But those plain, spacious rooms were rich in arti- 
cles of virtu, the walls covered with rich old tapestry. 
Many battle-scenes between the Austrians and Turks 
were marvelously portrayed in brilliant colors by the 
dexterous fingers of the patient nuns. I could but 
think how many lives had been stitched into those 
great pictures. 

In the State dining-room hung a vast number of 
pictures in mosaic, that were curious and costly. 
Several articles of furniture — tables, cabinets, jewel- 
boxes, and so on — were pointed out as having been 
used by Maria Theresa, and in them we felt especial 
interest. 

The apartments of the present empress, like all 
others, had bare inlaid floors, with pretty rugs placed 
here and there. These rooms had, however, a 
warmer and more luxurious look, the walls being 
hung with satin damask, of crimson or gold color, 
and some crimson and gold combined — bed-hangings 
and furniture to match. The private drawing-room 
was hung in a beautiful shade of blue, with ebony 
furniture, covered to match. The room was not 
crowded with furniture, but the little was very 
choice, — elegant mosaic tables, Sevres vases, marble 
statues, and various choice articles of virtu; but the 



rUBLIC BUILDINGS. 201 

room was not overloaded, as is too often the case in 
our country. 

From this and similar apartments, we went to the 
room called ^^La Salle de Ceremonies." This room 
is very lofty; the walls stuccoed, to represent white 
marble; the- dome supported by twenty-four fine 
columns, purporting to be Carrara marble, but ad- 
mitting of doubt. The great glittering crystal chan- 
deliers hold three thousand candles. Here, on a 
certain day, once in the year, the emperor and 
empress excercise and exhaust their humility, by 
performing a time-imposed custom of washing the 
feet of some humble subjects — a penance that, I sup- 
pose, atones for the indulgence of any amount of 
sinful pride. 

There are numerous churches in Vienna, that had 
for us different features of interest; but the crowning 
one is St. Stephen's, rising from a little platz in the 
crowded mart of the old city proper. Its height is 
very great, and roof steep, in which are represented, 
in colored tiles, various fanciful figures. The numer- 
ous external ornaments are crumbling; but strong, 
high, and in beautiful proportions, rises its pointed 
spire. Its ornamentation is so wondrously delicate 
and lace-like, it looks, as one said, ^^a structure of 
giants, incrusted with fairies.'' 

We, like many ambitious travelers, decided to 
climb to the top of that tower. Following a guide, 
on and up we went — weary, panting, dizzy — through 
dark, winding passages, by the great bell (that never 



202 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

utters a sound, save for royalty), and still upward. 
We passed to a little room or gallery, where a tele- 
graph station and vigilant watch announce the first 
indications of fire in any portion of the great city. 
From this point, we obtained a bird's-eye view of 
wonderful variety and extent. We hovered high in 
air above the city. Its tall houses looked small, 
packed, and crowded; and the narrow, cobwebbed 
streets looked like foot-paths. Quite around this por- 
tion extended The Ring, with its statuesque palaces, 
and numerous parks and gardens, and imposing 
public buildings. Beyond and around all this lay a 
fertile country. 

In one direction was pointed out the plain of 
Marchfield, and, stretching off toward Hungary, were 
the battle-fields of Wagram, and others, of bloody 
memory. Toward Baden-Baden were seen the faint 
mountain forms of the Zimmering Chain; and other 
mountains, hills, towns, and rivers lay beneath our 
eye, forming a striking picture, which we brought 
down with us from the dizzy height. 

We entered the interior, the venerable air of 
which is very impressive. It is dimly lighted. The 
choir has only two tall, slender windows, the rich 
antique glass of which casts a golden hue over a 
little space; but elsewhere there is a mysterious, 
sober gloom. Looking up into the vaulted canopy, 
it seemed like the shadowy depths of the evening 
sky. The massive, clustered columns, that run up 
into the dim height, are channeled and sculptured. 



ST. STEPHEN'S. 203 

Hanging against them are canopies, with statues of 
patron saints; all these look dark and time-worn, as 
if the incense of centuries had steeped them in their 
gloomy dyes. Tablets line the walls, and numerous 
monuments stand all around. 

It seemed to us a desecration that this church 
should be used almost as a common avenue for the 
careless crowd who pass through, often on their way 
for business or pleasure. Yet, while they briefly 
stop to offer up a prayer, who shall say they may not 
be thus strengthened, and by these influences be 
better prepared to drive away temptation? or by 
sitting down for a little time, in sacred contempla- 
tion, shake off somewhat of the clogs of materialism 
that in the midst of daily cares fetter the soul? 
Apart from Romish errors, there may be help from 
such influences. We know the Divine Presence is 
ever about us; but only when in proper frame are 
w^e assured and comforted by it; and outward appli- 
ances are often needed to help us in our struggles 
upward. Like Philip, our spiritual vision is dim; 
and he, when in daily intercourse with the Redeemer, 
said, ^^Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us.'' 

Thinking of these things, and their influences, we 
were interested in studying the faces and manners of 
the casual crowd that were around us, some of whom 
stopped for a hurried prayer, while others lingered 
long for devotion. Some were serious, some sad, 
and some apparently careless. 

Near the railing that incloses the high altar, 



204 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

kneeled two Italian beggar-boys. Their garments 
were in tatters, dirty packs were strapped upon their 
backs, their feet were shoeless. Their dark-brown 
faces were turned toward the image of the Savior, 
and their fierce black eyes seemed imploring from 
him a balm for their griefs. Not far removed from 
these beggars, in earnest and absorbed devotion, 
kneeled a well-dressed woman of intelligent coun- 
tenance. She had dropped in front of the high altar, 
on the dirty stone pavement, intent only on her devo- 
tions. Not far from her, a market-woman, with a 
huge basket on her arm, kneeled and counted her 
beads, and carelessly doled out her prayers, gazing 
about without an apparent thought of her occupation. 
Do we see any thing better, sometimes, in our Prot- 
estant churches? We liked the democratic spirit 
that, in foreign churches, permits beggars, peasants, 
ladies, and gentlemen, to mingle incongruously in 
their devotions. Grace Church, and a host of other 
congregations in New York City, would feel their 
garments defiled by such presence. But the world 
moves; and we are earnestly hoping for the coming 
time when, in Protestant churches, to the poor we 
shall have the Gospel preached. 

Of Vienna, its parks, its palaces, its art, much 
might be said, even although the papers have given 
us so much information; but I leave them, to record 
in place some of my pleasantest remembrances of 
excursions outside the city. One bright morning, a 
small party of us, in carriages, went out some miles 



ROUND ABOUT VIENNA. 20$ 

to Lachsenberg Palace, a favorite Summer resort of 
Emperor Francis. The palace is by no means 
stately, but beautiful for situation. As the emperor 
was coming there on the day we visited it, we had 
to take a hasty survey; but had time to enjoy the 
fine family portraits of Emperor Francis, Maria 
Theresa, and all her family. 

Then we went out to view the magnificent park, 
with all its right royal adornings, abounding in 
shaded avenues, winding walks, grottoes, Grecian 
temples, Chinese pagodas, Swiss cottages, fountains, 
and flowers. All these are interlaced by artificial 
streams, crossed by fanciful bridges; and lakes, 
adorned with islands. 

In the midst of one of the larger lakes stands the 
'^Franzenburg,'' an imitation of a knighfs castle, or 
feudal fortress of the Middle Ages. This is ap- 
proached by boat or drawbridge. The interior is a 
museum of antiquities. 

Here is an abundance of curious Gothic furniture, 
rich wood-carvings and carvings in stone, painted 
glass, queer and costly cabinets, pictures taken from 
old castles and ruined convents. Among the things 
on which the guide dwelt with especial interest, was 
a hat worn by Charles V in several battles, a shoe 
worn by Maria di Medici, and a chandelier said to 
be fifteen hundred years old. Think lightly as one 
may of such things and relics, they give a wonderful 
distinctness to the historic past, and make it seem 
strangely real. One feels almost a touch of tender 



206 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

sympathy when passing the knights in their heavy 
armor, as they seem to look out so mournfully from 
under their visors. 

What stories of hoar antiquity come crowding 
upon one, as he walks among such things, and 
through the dusky chambers of old palaces! 

After having seen the numerous objects of interest, 
we ascended the donjon tower, took a look from our 
eyrie over the congregated beauties of the grounds, 
and out upon the grand chain of blue mountains 
that partially surround them. From Lachsenberg, 
there runs for some miles an avenue lined with fine 
trees, and connecting the latter place with the Palace 
of Schonbrun. From this we diverged, on our re- 
turn, to the old Lichtenstein Castle, once a baronial 
stronghold; but it was sadly mutilated in the wars with 
the Turks, during their invasions into Austria. It is 
founded on a great rock, and its roofless walls stand 
strong and firm. The views from it are varied and 
beautiful, looking over the well-kept park and rolling 
country around. 

We came back through the valley of Briel, where 
the great rocks by the roadside were piled in pic- 
turesque heaps. Stunted evergreens had taken root 
in the crevices, lichens of beautiful pink and green 
crept over the rocks, and wild-flowers bloomed 
abundantly among them. 

The low cottages of the peasants nestled under 
many a rocky nook : every-where the door-yards 
served for sitting and dining-rooms; for, as a people. 



STREET SCENES. 20/ 

they literally live out-doors. As we left the valley, 
we entered a queer old town, stopped at a cheerless 
'^gasthaus," waited for some time in a desolate room, 
and then went down into the dingy court to eat our 
poor dinner under the trees; after which, we went 
out to view a monument that seemed without design 
or significance, looked into the queer little shops, and 
then started homeward, falling soon again into that 
grand avenue. 

As we passed the Palace of Schonbrun, royal 
equipages dashed up toward it with a speed that 
characterizes Viennese driving. Just at dusk we en- 
tered the city, where the streets were filled with 
citizens, soldiers, Bohemians, Jews, peasants and 
monks, priests and princes — a motley throng, such 
as may be seen in the streets of that lively city. 



208 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikptef XIX. 

FROM VIENNA TO SALZBURG— SIX YEARS AGO — THE VISIT OF 
LOUIS NAPOLEON AND EMPRESS EUGENIE TO THE EMPEROR 
AND EMPRESS OF AUSTRIA — PROCESSION — ILLUMINATIONS — 
THE VALLEY OF THE INN — INNSPRUCK — MAXIMILIAN — 
CHARLES V — JEFFERSON DAVIS — ANDREAS HOFER, 

IT was with reluctance we left the attractive city 
of Vienna ; but once aboard the flying train, the 
city and surroundings soon lay among the things of 
the past. As the emperor and members of the no- 
bility were hasting to Salzburg, we flew past the 
towns, across the country, and have only distinct im- 
pressions of the Tyrolean Alps, that ran along to the 
south of us, a magnificent boundary to the green, 
rolling plains. 

Arriving late in the evening, we found the grand 
HoteL de FEurope overcrowded with distinguished 
guests; but, having bespoke apartments, we were 
well accommodated. Our hotel, with the innumer- 
able lackeys lounging in the halls and corridors, had 
quite a high-bred atmosphere; and the beautiful park 
that surrounded the hotel was a minature edition of 
some lordly estate, having drives, walks, arbors, 
fountains and flowers. 

We were charmed with every thing in and about 



THE OLD PALACE. 209 

that frontier Austrian town, all of whose character- 
istics were very unique, as well as picturesque. 
Almost the first object that met our eyes, on looking 
out in the morning, was the grand old castle, or 
Bishop's Palace, that crowns the top of a small 
mountain, around which the town has stretched its 
borders. We were all impatience to get within its 
forbidding walls; for castles were then more of a 
novelty than they have been since. On our way 
thither, we passed the emperor's palace, where sol- 
diers stood about in bevies, full of anxious expectancy 
of the coming parade. Common people, peasants, 
and princes thronged the narrow streets, among 
which were numerous monks and priests, whom we 
had been taught to regard as '^wolves in sheep's 
clothing;" and our charity toward them was nowise 
enhanced by having just re-read of the cruel persecu- 
tions and tortures the poor Protestants had suffered, 
through the heads of their Church, as well as through 
the fraternity. 

Passing the cathedral, of early date and Italian 
style, we, from curiosity, entered; but saw little to 
interest, save the tomb of Mozart. 

A large portion of the old palace is now occupied 
by soldiers. We wandered leisurely through the 
spacious, dark apartments, where were a few rem- 
nants of former splendors; ^'now stained by age, 
with cobwebs darkly hung;'' yet full of interest, be- 
cause '^hallowed by the breath of other times." 

After passing many rooms and long, low corridors, 

14 



2IO SCENES IN EUROPE. 

we reached the foot of a tower. We climbed to the 
top, from which we had a charming and extensive 
prospect. 

At our feet lay the quaint old town of Salzburg, 
with its curious houses, its churches, its towers, its 
palaces. Beyond it, to the eastward, extended a 
broad valley, dotted over with pleasant towns, time- 
worn palaces, and picturesque ruins — the country 
beautified by rich culture. Through this verdure 
flowed the sparkling water of the river Salza. Near 
us, on an opposite mountain, loomed up the* gray 
walls of a Capuchin convent, against a densely 
wooded background of pines and firs ; and away off 
to the south stretched a long chain of the Tyrolese 
Mountains, whose very name suggests indescribably 
picturesque groupings and charming scenes. 

The scene was one not to be forgotten; nor shall 
I forget our then novel ride up to the castle. We 
were each seated in a chair, with poles attached to 
the sides. A man in front, with a slight harness, 
hitched himself in front. One behind, similarly 
equipped, did the same; and thus we were carried 
up. This is hard labor for the men; but many poor 
Swiss, on the mountains, get all their yearly gains in 
this way. 

When we returned from the castle, we met in the 
street a band of pilgrims, journeying to some shrine. 
Their dress and whole air was one of extreme hu- 
mility. Each one carried a book open, on which 
their eyes were fixed; and as they marched, they 



PEASANTS' COSTUMES. 211 

chanted in chorus. The procession was headed by 
a priest, and by his side was carried banners. On 
the red-ground of one I noticed a picture of the 
Virgin Mary. 

One of the novel and interesting features of dif- 
ferent sections of Europe is the peculiar costume of 
the peasantry; varying in different regions, but every- 
where a fashion transmitted from generation to gen- 
eration unchanged. A common dress in the Tyrol, 
for the men, is short tight breeches, coming down 
nearly to the knee; long, white, fancifully knit stock- 
ings nearly meet the breeches; large coarse shoes 
a short brown blouse, trimmed with red; a green 
jacket; and a broad-brimmed felt hat, with a steeple 
crown. These are always adorned by wings or 
feathers of some kind of bird, or with flowers made 
from bird-feathers. The women wear short skirts, of 
various bright or brown colors, green or red stock- 
ings, a white waist, over which is a dark peasant 
waist, laced with red strings. The ornaments are 
various; but among the most prosperous are worn 
large silver chains across the breast, and pinned at 
each shoulder by a large silver pin. Their great fan- 
like head-gear is the most striking feature; and, to 
complete the fanciful outfit, they almost invariably 
carry a red or green umbrella. The women, by con- 
stant exposure in hard out-door labor, are a stolid, 
homely class, but strong and healthy. 

On my first visit to Europe, six years ago, while 
at Salzburg there was added to the many attractions 



212 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

of the place the presence of the Austrian Emperor 
and Empress, and the visit of the late Emperor and 
Empress of France. For the reception of the French 
sovereigns, most extensive preparations were made. 
The railroad station was ornamented with wreaths 
and monograms, and a wealth of flowers in crocks, 
brought from conservatories. Along the extended 
avenue, leading from the station to the palace, poles 
were set on either side. These were wreathed with 
evergreens, and from one to another were festoons 
of evergreen wreaths. The Austrian Emperor was 
out in his state carriage, accompanied by the Em- 
press, and followed by many of the nobility and 
oflicers of rank. The emperor's carriage was drawn 
by four black horses; the postillions dressed in gor- 
geous livery. The Austrian Emperor wore scarlet 
pants, a white coat trimmed with scarlet, a military 
cap adorned with a tall green feather; the nobiHty 
in similar dress; officers of rank^ in light bluish- 
grey, trimmed with scarlet, they wearing also the 
green feather. The common soldiers were in blue 
pants, white coats trimmed with scarlet, and in their 
caps a tall, willowy white feather. The gay body- 
guard and flashing liveries formed, with all, a brilliant 
scene. 

The French Emperor was in plain black citizen- 
dress. Eugenie was in short, white, China silk travel- 
ing-dress, trimmed with black. After the ceremoni- 
ous salutations at the station, the royal cortege moved 
off to the time of lively military music, presenting to 



VALLEY OF THE INN. 21 3 

our differently trained American eyes a most unsab- 
bath-like scene. 

At night, the old castle and the hills were illumi- 
nated so brilliantly as to pale the moonbeams. Not 
very long after, watch-fires were kindled for Napoleon 
on the hills of France, by the Prussians; but not in 
courtesy. Here is food for moralizing. 

The time spent at Salzburg is ever among my 
pleasant recollections, and there is much to render a 
long stay there enjoyable; but travelers are not to 
think of quiet rest. And who could rest when the 
valley of the Tyrol lay before them in its unexplored 
attractions ? 

Going toward Rosenheim, we had an extended 
view of the same beautiful features that characterize 
the country about Salzburg. 

At Rosenheim, we turned down the valley of the 
Inn. This valley is narrow, walled in on one side 
by precipitous mountains; on the other, the mount- 
ains slope gradually away, and are cultivated nearly 
to the top. Scattered along on these were little white 
cottages, quiet hamlets, marked by trim church-spires; 
but over mountain and valley lay an air of silent 
repose, the occasional sound of a stream leaping down 
the mountain-side, or the notes of an Alpine horn 
breaking pleasantly the oppressive silence. 

This region has a peculiar charm, both for the 
lover of nature and the historian. My enjoyment 
of it was somewhat marred by the constant evidence 
of the universal sway of Romanism. Every-where 



214 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

along the route were standing crosses, shrines, and 
tawdrily bedecked images. Wandering monks, with 
shaven heads and long brown robes, and priests in 
black robes and three-cornered hats, were crossing 
our path, and showing how zealously watchful they 
were over the interests of Rome. 

As we neared Innspruck, the deep silence of the 
valley was broken. The river Inn rolled noisily 
by us. Numerous timber-rafts covered her surface, 
guided by such numbers of men as to form in them- 
selves quite a community. Several fine bridges 
spanned the river, and the town seemed full of 
bustle. 

Heavy arcades cover the sidewalks on some of the 
crooked streets. Under these were shops and all 
kinds of traffic, and a modey crowd of shopkeepers, 
looking quite like our own; soldiers and officers in 
Austrian uniforms; Jews, genuine type of the marked 
race; brown-faced peasant-women, with flaring white 
caps; English travelers, in gray suits, and a strap-full 
of Murray's Guide-books; swarms of healthy children 
tumbling and playing on the streets. Old, faded 
pictures cover the walls of the houses, among which, 
ever conspicuous, are melancholy Madonnas, of a uni- 
form type, and utterly devoid of any possible quality 
to command either admiration or veneration. Through 
the center of the town runs a broad street, where is 
seen faded remains of paintings and houses, once 
pretentious. 

The old town of Innspruck has much historical 



INNSPRUCK. 215 

interest, and is especially memorable as the scene of 
some of the remarkable exploits of that illustrious 
actor in European history, Maximilian, whose versa- 
tile genius shone forth with equal brilliancy in the 
manifold and seemingly incompatible characters of a 
renowned emperor and polished scholar, a brave war- 
rior and a poet, a musician and a skillful sportsman. 
By his kind and generous sympathies, he added to the 
respect his people felt for him their love and friend- 
ship; and thus his memory is ever fondly cherished. 

Innspruck has been the theater of warm contests 
between Romanism and Protestantism; but above the 
severe and sad events of history comes up the ludi- 
crous incident in the history of Emperor Charles V. 
While here, attending the Trent Council, whose mo- 
tive was to '^ crush forever the Protestant Church,'' 
this mighty sovereign, who had subdued nearly all 
the reigning princes and potentates of Europe — who 
had reached the summit of earthly greatness — this 
Caesar of the Sixteenth Century, was surprised and 
nearly taken by a few lancers, and only succeeded 
in eluding them by hastily donning the dress of an 
old woman; and thus attired, in a peasant's wagon, 
he escaped into Flanders. 

This story of mediaeval days is not without its 
parallel in modern times. The similar occurrence in 
our own land must yet be fresh in the reader's recol- 
lection. American history has furnished, in Jefferson 
Davis, another illustration of the truth of the adage that 
history is ever repeating itself; and coming generations 



2l6 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

will see, in this ludicrous picture* of this mighty con- 
queror stealing away in the garb of an old woman, 
a prototype of the not less ridiculous denouement of 
the official career of a man whose inordinate ambi- 
tion overreached itself, and tarnished a name that 
should have shone with luster on the pages of Ameri- 
can history. And now, among a people whom he 
desired either to rule or ruin, he stands as the scape- 
goat of a mighty political sin; an apostate priest in 
the temple of liberty; a warning to all time, that 
shame and disgrace must ever mantle talents, how- 
ever brilliant, which have once been prostituted to 
the infamous work of impairing the religious and 
political integrity of a nation. 

In Innspruck, the two finest monuments of art 
are erected in the old palace church, to the two men 
whom the people most delight to honor, — Maximil- 
ian, their ruler; and Andreas Hofer, in whom seemed 
condensed the very essence of bravery and true 
patriotism. 



MOUNTAIN TRAVEL. 21/ 

f 



dljkptef XX. 

INNSPRUCK — VALLEYS — TOWNS — HEIDA — FIRST SIGHT OF A 
GLACIER — STELVIO PASS — GRAND VIEWS — BAGNI BORMIO — 
FIRST SIGHT OF ITALY. 

OUR Stay at Innspruck over, we engaged a vettu- 
rino, for several days' travel through the valley^ 
and over the mountain passes, — a convenient coach, 
that opens broadly for dry weather, and can be se- 
curely closed when wet. The luggage stowed away, 
we took our places, in the cool of the early morning, 
while the town yet lay in the cool shadows of the 
towering mountains that rise around it to the height 
of from six to eight thousand feet. 

Our driver was an old man, who had traveled 
the mountain passes for over thirty years ; had a well- 
earned reputation for competency, integrity, and a 
knowledge of Italian, though he talked pure German 
to his horses — great, patient, intelligent animals. A 
large crowd gathered about us as we took our places 
in the carriage; the driver, with great flourish, 
started, and with constant crack of the whip, and 
a *'Yeep! yeep!" to the horses, dashed through the 
market-place, among women and vegetables, on 



2l8 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

through narrow streets, while gaping crowds looked 
curiously after us. 

Out in the suburbs of the town we entered upon 
a broad, smooth, macadamized road, that ran through 
the valley. As we looked back upon Innspruck, the 
sunlight rested on the mountain-tops and towers, and 
glistened on the brass balls that adorn the pinnacles 
and steeples. As we wound through the narrow 
valley, the river Inn rumbled along on our left, 
bearing its burden of huge rafts; and on our right 
rose, perpendicularly, rocky mountain walls. On 
some of the most inaccessible crags, our driver 
pointed out spots where Maximilian had followed 
the chamois. 

It seemed a grossly incredible story; but, in trav- 
ehng in Europe, who would be foolish enough to 
indulge in skepticism, when half the charm lies in 
believing the improbable, and in shutting the eyes to 
what is disagreeable? Then, too, when memory of 
historic scenes fail, and guides and driver relapse 
into silence, having exhausted their tales of the mar- 
velous, let fiction and fancy embellish the scene; 
for why should one, in bearing the fatigue and dis- 
comforts of travel, render it doubly wearisome by 
dwelling on disagreeable things ? For my part, I 
like to get all the pleasure and poetry that lies 
along the toilsome way. And in this spirit we 
looked upon the scenes through which we were 
passing, and found a fund of interest in the prim- 
itive inhabitants; and accepted complacently the 



A MOUNTAIN INN. 219 

poor fare that was given to us at the barn-like inns 
on the road. 

The sun-browned maidens were harvesting in the 
valleys. They, in their bhssful ignorance, evidently 
had no troublesome Maud Muller aspirations for any 
thing better or higher. From the low, level plains, 
our road ran still upward, higher at every turn, 
clinging against the face of bald, projecting rocks; 
but built broad and firm. Often we looked down 
perpendicularly, thousands of feet. Such skillful 
engineering causes constant wonderment. 

Toward night we reached one of those verdant 
slopes upon the Alps, and at dusk came to a 
mountain inn. Just in front of this was a watering- 
place for horses, and placed above it the crudest 
possible image of a Madonna. We entered the 
house by a flight of stone steps. A broad, dark 
hall, paved with flagging-stones, admitted us to our 
large but low apartment — the furniture of which 
consisted of a bed in three corners; a large pine 
table in the fourth, where our meals were to be 
served, and around which were fastened some 
wooden benches. The air of the whole house was 
gloomy, moldy, and smoky. The fare required a 
strong mountain appetite; but sleep and rest proved 
able assistants, when the fare failed. 

Early next morning we left the heights of Heida, 
and descended into another valley that led us toward 
the Stelvio Pass, the highest in Europe. From 
Heida, in the bright morning light, I caught my first 



220 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

sight of a glacier, that hung like a great white cloud 
in the heavens. All day we traveled toward it, and 

" Like a silver zone 
Flung about carelessly, it shone afar, 
Catching the eye in many a broken link, 
In many a turn and traverse, as we rode." 

About noon we came to the foot of Stelvio; and, 
after some hours' slow ascent of several thousand feet, 
we arrived at the only inn on the way. This low stone 
house was clinging against the steep mountain-side. 
We entered it by a flight of stone steps; passed 
through a low hall, paved with flagging-stones, into 
a plain room, that was lighted by three little win- 
dows. The floor was bare, the walls dingy with time 
and smoke. Two or three wooden benches stood in 
the room, a plain pine table, two little narrow beds, 
high and hard, covered with pink -and -white plaid 
linen spreads — the only luxurious articles being small- 
sized feather-beds, used as covering. This room 
seemed a counterpart of the others. 

The dining-room was plain as possible, only that 
in one corner hung a grotesque image of the Virgin, 
tawdrily bedecked. Our mountain appetites, strong 
as they were, almost rebelled at the poorly cooked 
chicken, black bread, and sweetened omelet. 

The most primitive of all the arrangements of 
that mountain house was the kitchen and cooking 
apparatus. In the center of the room stood a brick 
platform, raised about two feet from the pavement, 
and about four feet square. There were little iron 




[■■Ill 



AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 221 

Standards, from the middle of which went three 
prongs downward, and three upward. Fire was built 
under the lower prongs — kettles and spiders rested 
on the upward. They had only little twigs to burn. 
There was no chimney ; the smoke whirled about the 
room, and eventually settled on the blackened walls 
and blackened faces of the women and children. 

Toward sunset we walked out to the foot of the 
glacier that had been our ^'pillar of cloud" to lead 
us on, and we shivered in its atmosphere, although 
just around us there was a perfect June freshness 
to the grass. As we stood by the great glacier, 
there came down, from the Alpine pastures lying 
still above us, a rosy-cheeked, innocent -looking 
mountain maid, with the goats and cows in solemn 
file, and their tinkling bells made pleasant mountain 
music. 

The great peaks rose grandly about us, some 
shaggy with green pines and dark firs, some bristling 
with stony points, and the heads of some were hoary 
with eternal snows. Beneath us, and away back in 
the distance, stretched the valley through which we 
came. As we stood and looked from point to point, 
while the twilight gathered over all the multitudinous 
picturesque pile, the air, and the scene so inspiring, 
we felt we were every moment doubling our lease 
of life. The stars came out, and they seemed our 
near neighbors, as we went to our rooms to sleep 
and rest in that lofty region. 

The next morning dawned upon us bright as we 



222 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

could desire; and, as we were preparing for our out- 
ward journey, there was about us a picture, the 
grouping and chief features of which I shall never 
forget. The women looked after all our wants, set- 
tled the bills, harnessed the horses; the men stood 
with pipes in their mouths, and hands in their pock- 
ets, listlessly indifferent. The chubby children sang 
out, as we started, ^^GluckHche Reise" — *^A pleasant 
journey to you." In a strange land such things, how- 
ever trifling, reach the heart, and through the heart 
the head, clearing away 

" The narrow notions that grow up at home, 
And in their place grafting good-will to all." 

On and up again we went, for another half-day, 
a zigzag course, the road doubling back upon itself, 
repeating the views that were every moment growing 
broader and grander. The sensations, growing with 
the occason, became quite indescribable. When we 
reached the stupendous height from which we looked 
down upon the glacier that all the previous day had 
been our ^^ pillar of cloud," leading us onward and 
upward, it was with feelings of awe, and overpower- 
impressions, I looked out on the sublime scene. 
There we stood, above the clouds, and looked on 
the long chain of mountain-tops, down among which 
lay the rivers of ice; and over the great snow-fields, 
that lay, with the accumulations of centuries, un- 
changed. Over those cold, white surfaces the sun 
has rolled for ages, impressionless. In that sterile 
region no verdure cheers the eye, nor bud nor leaf 



THE STELVIO. 223 

or shrub come forth at the sun's bidding ; and, as the 
great day-god moves on his mission through the ages, 
his passage is not marked by seed-time or harvest. 
Spring is never heralded by bird-note, nor the hum 
of an insect heard amid the profound stillness. Stern 
and silent lies the sublime scene ; one that can be 
felt, but not described. Nowhere could the soul at- 
tain a more comprehensive sense of the power of 
the Creator. In that awful silence, 

" I could hear my own soul speak, 
And had my friend ; for nature comes sometimes, 
And says, * I am embassador for God.' " 

I heard and felt the voice, with an almost transforming 
influence, that seemed to lift me above the earth. 

" Wings at my shoulders seemed to play ; 
But, rooted there, I stood and gazed 
On those great steps, that heavenward raised 

Their practicable way." • 

Near the top of Stelvio is the dividing line be- 
tween Austria and Italy. A huge stone cross marks 
the boundary. Descending a short distance from 
this, on the Italian side, the scenery we found to be 
very rugged. The mountains were not snow-covered, 
but rocky and barren, though beautifully variegated 
by a mixture of dark rocks with light veins, and 
greenish slate. These were embellished by a few 
patches of moss and stunted shrubs. Our road hung 
along on the sides of these mountains, sometimes 
under frowning rocks, sometimes under galleries 
constructed for safety from avalanches. At our 



224 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

right, most of the way, lay a deep ravine, that 
looked an interminable distance below us. Through 
the gorges of the mountains came tearing, boisterous 
streams; and then came, over the faces of the rocks, 
little, soft, vapory streamlets, whose gentle voices fell 
Jike music on the weary senses. 

Almost as fast as the streams, we went hurrying 
down the mountain, wishing only for time to rest, 
and think over the day's experiences; but lo! an- 
other charming surprise awaited us. Emerging from 
these rocky barriers, the sunny plains of Italy lay 
spread out before us. I have little sympathy with 
those persons whose hearts are not deeply stirred, and 
whose imaginations are not fired with an unnatural 
glow, when for the first time their eyes rest on this 
land, — the land ^* whose atmosphere is fragrance, 
whose soil is beauty, whose canopy is a glory unim- 
aginable, and its air a prism to turn common light 
into enchantment f ' ' this land of antiquity, school 
of history, and home of the past.'' 

As it lay before us in its physical ''spect, on the 
right and left of this broad valley rose a chain of 
mountains whose sides were covered with olive- 
wood; and back of these stood snowy peaks, peep- 
ing over into the valley, but suffused with the rich 
glow of an Italian sunset. Near the foot of the 
mountain, at Bagni Bormio — some celebrated old 
springs, formerly a resort of the Romans^ — we stopped 
for the night. The whole panorama lay spread out 
before us in the full flush of golden sunset light, and 



ITALY. 225 

the scene and its charms realized a life-long dream 
of Italy. Strange impressions come thronging upon 
one in the midst of such scenes. We seem to be 
just awakened to thoughts old and familiar, like 
unto a consciousness of a pre-existence, and we go 
reaching back into eternity; and we are led to in- 
quire whether these impressions are memories born 
with us, or ideas suggested by the forms of beauty 
that spring up around us, or are in familiarity by 
much reading of the scenes; for Italy has been the 
grand amphitheater where has been enacted very 
much of the world's history, both sacred and pro- 
fane. Legions upon legions have poured out their 
bipod upon the soil, until the very flowers seem to 
have taken their coloring therefrom, and the leaves 
of the trees sing a requiem over the sad past. I 
asked myself whether the brilliancy of the flowers, 
the charms of the sky, and the beauty of the valley 
and mountains, were so really superior; or was it only 
because I viewed them all against a background 
redolent with the glory of the past? The aerial tints 
of Italy had long gleamed in my imagination, which 
doubtless lent an unwonted glow to that Italian 
scene. 

IS 



226 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dii^ptef XXI. 

BORMIO — ITALIAN VALLEYS — BERNINA PASS — UPPER ENGADINE — 
JULIAN PASS— COIRE. 

FROM the springs, where we rested for a night, 
we drove a mile before entering the town of 
Bormio. The streets were narrow, crooked, and 
dirty, — old, rickety houses, with overhanging balco- 
nies, where tattered garments fluttered in the wind, 
and ugly, dwarfish women sat gossiping; and under 
this a basement showed darker and dirtier abodes, 
where men, women, and children herded, amid moldy 
heaps of garbage and bad odor. Alas! how had my 
dream of Italy fallen! 

Away from this, and out along the valley, with its 
vineyards and olive-groves, its orchards of chestnut 
and clumps of oak, its gently wooded hills and bright 
skies; and again comes back the spell, and a realiza- 
tion of its glowing pictures. 

Along the way, peasants were gathering in the 
yellow maize, and hanging it around the balconies to 
dry. Pretty young maidens in brilliant drapery, red 
handkerchiefs about the shoulders, with rich olive 
complexions, jet-black hair, and eyes brimful of 
mirth and jollity, were carrying on the head antique 



ITALIAN PEOPLE. 22/ 

water-jars. Sallow-faced monks, in long, threadbare 
robes, crossed our way, sometimes wearing a solemn 
and sometimes a waggish expression. 

Little donkeys, not much larger than a New- 
foundland dog, decked out with brass ornaments and 
tufts of scarlet, dragged little carts, in which sat 
stalwart men and women. These people have no 
troublesome ambition. Indolently, they reach out 
and pluck what nature spontaneously produces; as 
Rogers says : 

"In florid beauty, groves and fields appear : 
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. 
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign, — 
Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; 
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; 
And even in penance planning sins anew." 

Along through the valley were numerous dilapi- 
dated towns; and from the many old church-towers 
the bells sent out sounds that echoed back from the 
mountains, filling all the valley with their musical 
chimes. Here and there were strewn wrecks of 
former greatness, leading the thoughts far back in the 
history of this once opulent nation. 

In some of the towns, we visited curious churches, 
some especially rich in wood-carvings. We walked, 
at times, along the smooth, broad roads; ate mul- 
berries while we sat under the great trees; and finally 
turned out of this sunny vale into Switzerland, for the 
passage of the Bernina Pass. No sooner had we 
crossed the borders than I was struck with the 



228 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

marked change in the characteristics of the people 
and country. The dark visages and flashing eyes 
were succeeded by blue eyes, light complexions, and 
honest faces. Then there was an absence of shrines 
and crosses and tawdrily adorned Madonnas, so 
abundant in Italy. In the rougher clime of Switzer- 
land, Protestantism thrives; for industry, courage, 
freedom, are congenial elements to promote its 
growth. 

As we climbed up among the mountains, there 
was scanty herbage — a few little patches of grass; 
and away up on the rocky cliffs were perched little 
Swiss cottages. 

"No product here the barren hills aiford ; 
But man and steel, the soldier and his sword." 

As we wound along our upward way, range above 
range of mountains stretched far away; bright, danc- 
ing streams tripped down their sides, and went sing- 
ing away into the valleys; and we went onward and 
upward, until we came to a long, narrow table-land, 
that seemed to lie on the tops of tall mountains; and 
above these rose others. Upon this 'height lay a 
clear, dark lake, some three miles in extent. Along 
this, our road ran to the left, skirting the base of 
great, rocky peaks. Across the lake arose similar 
ones. All the scene was reproduced in the glassy 
waters. At the foot of the lake we found a resting- 
place, ^^ beautiful upon the mountains as the feet of 
him that bringeth good tidings.'^ 

From the windows of my room at the hotel I 



A MOUNTAIN LAKE. 229 

watched the sunset die on the pointed summits, and 
the twihght spread like a pall over the wild scene. 
I looked down into the lake, and myriads of stars 
glimmered in its transparent depths. I looked up, 
and the blue, starry dome of heaven seemed resting 
on the mountain-tops. 

The scene stirred my heart too deeply for sleep, 
and I sat long by the window, with my eye trans- 
fixed; but memory was busy with by-gones. Far 
away in my childhood home, I saw a clear, blue lake, 
that stretched many miles in graceful curves along 
soft, low shores, green trees and forests, and fields of 
waving grain, and meadows fragrant with clover- 
blossoms. The moon rode fast over those waves, the 
stars shone with steady radiance, and even the star 
of hope was undimmed; but I was a child then. In 
reality and in feeling, since those days, I had trav- 
eled far from that spot; but it still shone upon me 
with a touching and unparalleled beauty; and my 
last thoughts that night were, No lake like Cayuga. 

The next morning was bright; and, among varying 
scenes, we went on and upward, toward the summit 
of Bernina. Gradually we rose above the region of 
vegetation. Great bald rocks were piled about us, 
mingled with snow arid ice. It was a cold, silent, 
desolate, and impressive scene. 

On the very top of the pass, we found a Swiss 
inn, where ^^food is supplied for man and beast;" 
but no fire. And in the damp, chilly atmosphere 
we sat and shivered until dinner was over; and then 



230 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

descended rapidly from our eyrie among the clouds. 
Going down, we passed through fine fir-forests, and 
soon came upon the valley of the Upper Engadine. 
This valley lies somewhere between four and five 
thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is sixty 
miles long. 

In the short Summer season, its meadows cover 
all the valley with a fresh green. It is overlooked 
by snow mountains, and the glaciers come creeping 
down the gorges into the very midst of the green 
fields. ^^Here Winter lingers in the lap of May,'' 
and the rapid growth of vegetation gives it a peculiar 
richness. For a brief time the pastures are excel- 
lent. One of the romantic features of the valley and 
mountain-side are the large flocks that come up 
from Italy, attended by the Berganesque shepherds, in 
their shaggy sheep-skin dress. 

It is said many of the inhabitants of the Enga- 
dine go out into the world and make their fortunes, 
and then return to expend their money in beautify- 
ing their homes; and here the peculiar Swiss archi- 
tecture is seen in unusual perfection. Many of the 
houses are spacious ; but, according to the prevailing 
Swiss custom, the basement is often used for cattle 
and horses. 

The little town where we stopped was swarming 
with Summer visitors and tourists. Leaving the val- 
ley for the Julian Pass, we ascended some distance, 
where from an eminence we looked down upon that 
celebrated watering-place, San Moritze, where, w^e 



SWISS VIEWS. 231 

were told, were parties of Americans spending the 
Summer. 

As we climbed higher, our views became broad 
and beautiful. The valley stretched far away, dotted 
over with Swiss hamlets. Along our road, on the 
mountain-side, was a great variety of trees, — ever- 
greens of various kinds; walnuts, with richly colored 
brown leaves; aspens, with old, marred trunks, and 
leaves that hung long and white, like the locks of 
age. Straggling along the banks were clusters of 
campanula, heavily laden with purple blossoms, 
patches of blue gentian, and Alpine roses. 

At a great elevation we found numerous table- 
lands, walled in by mountain summits. Here were 
several small lakes, of a deep ultramarine color, and 
so wonderfully transparent that all surrounding ob- 
jects (mountains, sky, trees, and every tiny twig) were 
reflected with an accuracy and richness of coloring 
that the best art could faintly imitate. Michael An- 
gelo says that *^true painting is only a copy of the 
Divine perceptions — a shadow from his pencil." 

From these scenes, glowing in richness of color- 
ing, we gradually came upon a more barren region, 
where snow lay in the shadow of the rocks; and 
against their jagged sides grew gray saxifrages, in 
clumps bearing little white flowers, mingled with 
bronzed lichens and blue gentians, that looked up 
from under the snow-rim. They seemed votive offer- 
ings to the God of Nature, and taught us a sweet 
lesson of cheerfulness, thus smiling amid desolation. 



232 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

There are few things that speak more appealingly 
to the heart than the tender flowers strugghng for a 
foothold among the barren rocks, that they may ac- 
complish their loving mission by giving their cheer- 
ing presence to such cold, desolate scenes. I some- 
times felt like apostrophizing them in the words of 
Mrs. Sigourney: 

" Meek dwellers 'mid yon terror-stricken cliffs, 
With brows so pure, and incense breathing lips, 
Whence are ye ? Did some white-winged messsenger, 
On Mercy's mission, trust your timid germ 
1 o the cold cradle of eternal snows ? 
And breathing on the callous icicles, 
Bid them with tear-drops nurse ye ?" 

From the summit of the Julian, our descent was 
by a pleasant way, running by turns among green 
fields and long avenues of evergreens; through dells 
of Arcadian loveliness, as well as through dirty Swiss 
hamlets; and at one of the latter we stopped for 
the night. 

Teifen Castle — for such was its name — was lodged 
in a narrow gorge, and our inn hung on the bank of 
a foaming, boisterous stream^ Mingling w^ith this 
music, came the tinkling bells of the cattle and goats, 
and the more solemn cadence of the vesper-bell, that 
rung out from the little Romish church that had 
gained a foothold in that mountain nook. These 
mingled with my memories of the day, and soon with 
my night-dreams. 

Next morning, our way led again upward, and as 



TOWARD COIRE. 233 

we ascended from this gorge our way was very steep, 
our road often doubling back upon itself; and at 
times we were like a bird in the air, almost hovering 
over Teifen Castle. Then on, and over a mountain, 
hurrying toward Coire, we passed near the source 
of the Rhine; there a little obscure stream, but bab- 
bling of coming greatness down among the valleys 
and vineyards. 



234 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



Cli^tef XXll. 

COIRE — DOWN THE VALLEY TO ZURICH — CHURCH OF ZWINGLI — 
LAVATER — WOOD-CARVINGS — LUCERNE — SUMMER VISITORS — 
LAKE OF LUCERNE — TELLEN-PLATZ — FLUELLEN — WEGGIS — 
TRIP UP THE RHIGI — EXTENSIVE VIEW — RETURN. 

AT Coire we bade good-bye to our excellent old 
driver, patted the faithful big bay horses that 
had brought us safely over so many mountain passes, 
and, after a hasty dinner at the hotel, took our seats 
in the railroad-train for Zurich. 

As we ran down that fertile valley, close on our left- 
hand rose a huge mountain chain, while at our right 
lay a chain of crystal lakes. The fields were ripe for 
the harvest ; and strong, healthy-looking maidens, in 
short dresses and broad-brimmed hats, worked in- 
dustriously among the hay and grain. Their black- 
ened arms and sun-browned faces suggested never a 
thought of beauty, save that which lies in perfect 
health and perfect contentment. The labors of 
women in Switzerland are very arduous, and one 
sees them delving, plowing, hoeing, and breaking 
stone in building roads. With those huge baskets 
strapped to their backs, they transport wood, provis- 
ions, etc., to the towns, and up the rugged mountains. 



ZURICH, 235 

Our hotel at Zurich, nestled among trees and 
flowers, sat on the lake-shore, an attractive spot, 
where w^e found travelers apparently from all lands. 
To our immense delight, we found the sitting-room 
abundantly supplied with Protestant books and 
papers, all in good English. At dinner a fine band 
played, making table d^hote less tedious than it other- 
wise would be. 

At Zurich, the principal objects of interest to a 
stranger are the shops, filled with beautiful wood- 
carvings; the church where Lavater preached; the 
Museum ; and the old Munster, a building erected in 
the eleventh century. The exterior is in romanesque 
style, the interior very plain. A curious and quaint 
pulpit hangs against a side column, high above the 
heads of the congregation. To all Protestants this 
is an object of great interest; for from it Zwingli de- 
nounced the errors of Romanism, and from this spot 
there went out an influence that gradually pervaded 
all classes — a light that spread across the valleys and 
away over the mountains of Switzerland. 

D'Aubigne, -in writing of the lives of the Re- 
formers, and the terminus, says: '^Zwingli's advance 
was slow. He did not arrive at truth as Luther had 
done, by tempest-shocks that compel the soul hastily 
to take refuge; he was moved by gentler influences. 
Luther attained the wished-for haven after strug- 
gling w^ith the storms of ocean; Zwingli by steering 
cautiously along the shore." The spell of his 
influence still hangs over all the region, and proves, 



236 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

that if he built cautiously, he at the same time built 
well and securely. 

The route from Zurich to Lucerne is a pleasant 
prelude to this enchanted land; for scarcely could 
one conceive more charming and varied forms of 
sublimity and harmonious beauty than is clustered 
about the Lake of the Four Cantons. At the head- 
waters of Lucerne, in crescent-shape, lies one of the 
sunniest, most beguiling spots in all Switzerland. Its 
many fine and commodious hotels are thronged with 
tourists from the four quarters of the world. A 
nicely shaded avenue runs between the hotels and 
the lake-shore, where idle travelers may be seen, 
walking, talking, lounging, resting, and enjoying the 
scenes, the sights, the music. The crowd is a mot- 
ley one, — fine ladies, plain ladies; peasant nurses, 
with simple costume and fantastic head-gear; soldiers 
in uniform; silly women, leading pet poodles; sharp, 
intriguing-looking priests, with solemn black robes 
and three-cornered hats; anxious guides, in blue 
blouses, patched pants, and hob-nailed wooden shoes. 
This is the tableau vivant ; but around and beyond 
all this lies a grand and beautiful nature, that can 
inspire and lead the spirit quite above these inferior 
influences. 

The material forms, it is true, are fixed ; and yet 
there is an ever-changing variety. Flying mists dapple 
the water and land with light shadows. Great, white, 
solid clouds bridge the peaks and chasms, casting up 
a highway for the train of the spirit-brides that are 



TELL CHAPEL. 237 

said to have their home among the Alps. The 
grim form of Pilatus sits in sullen majesty, never 
bestowing a smile upon the scene ; but at his feet 
lie patches of lawn-like grass, with pleasant homes. 

Going down the lake by steamer, at our left lay 
the peaceful bays of Alpnach and Kusnacht; to the 
right, wooded mountains; and above these bristled 
turret-like summits. Sometimes the mountains pushed 
far out into the waters, and the steamer, obedient 
to their command, went around them. Glens and 
glades, gardens and cottages, sprinkled along the 
shore, are looked down upon by great, stern, rocky 
mountains, of which the deep blue-green water gives 
back powerful and rich reflections. 

Going toward Fluellen, on the left is the little 
chapel erected to the memory of the hero of that 
region, William Tell. It is a small structure, open 
in front, across which runs an arcade. The exploits 
of Tell are painted on the walls. The Swiss look 
upon that spot as an inspiring object in the cause of 
freedom, and every boy has its story by heart. On 
the steamer with us was a teacher, with a large class 
of young lads, going to visit the chapel. The boys 
had their music-books, and sang by note, with per- 
fect accuracy and harmony and thrilling effect, sev- 
eral patriotic airs. They sang in German, and we 
could not understand the words; but we listened 
delighted : for one could not mistake the triumphant 
tone of freedom that rang out, and the spirit of 
patriotism that flashed from their eyes, as they looked 



238 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

up to the Tellen-Platz. The scenery about the lower 
part of the lake is extremely wild. 

From Fluellen we returned to Weggis, about 
which there is nothing to say, save that it is a sort 
of encampment for guides and mules, and the 
starting-point for the steam-cars up the Rhigi. Be- 
ing pressed for time, we took the latter — an expe- 
rience we never wish to repeat. The train was 
crowded with passengers; and the engine puffed 
noisily up the steep grades, and across the frightful, 
yawing chasms. I almost lost my breath, and surely 
lost all sense of the beautiful, and all enjoyment. I 
looked out enviously on the pedestrians that were 
toiling up the various paths, and still more did I 
covet a place on the back of some one of the mules 
that went in solemn file up the mountain; for, though 
they will obstinately hover on the edge of precipices, 
they are sure of their footing. 

The day of our ascent up the Rhigi was remark- 
ably bright and clear; so that all the outlying hills 
and mountains, plains and river, fields and forests, 
and the numerous lakes, were spread before us with 
unusual distinctness. Over it all there was an air of 
perfect repose and impressive silence, and no sound 
reached us from all the plain. 

It is said that, from the Rhigi, the eye can extend 
over a circuit of some hundred miles. Far beyond 
the lakes and fertile plain and wooded hills. Lies one 
of the most impressive views in all the world. I 
doubt if Christian, when he left the Valley of Sin, 



THE RHIGI. 239 

and climbed up in view of the *^ Delectable Mount- 
ains/' felt a more exalted joy than comes to one 
whose eye for the first time is fixed on the pure, un- 
sullied forms of the high Alps. Tier beyond tier 
they rise, in mystic outline; and in vast, silent 
strength, suggesting the power and majesty of their 
great Creator. That soul must be poor indeed that 
is not inspired with awe and reverence by such a 
scene. It was a grand and beautiful vision of an 
enchanted land, where the Titlis and the Jungfrau, 
in glittering purity, stand as the guardian spirits. 

As we came down the Rhigi, the sun went down 
behind the Alps, and when we took the steamer for 
Lucerne it was night; but we had the stars above 
us, and the stars below us. The moon rode high over 
the craggy peaks; but she lighted softly the scenes 
below her, and sent a long train of silvery light 
behind our steamer. 

As we approached Lucerne, the town, the bridges, 
the shores, were lighted with innumerable lamps; the 
music of the band came floating sweetly across the 
water. We felt the day had been one of the great 
white days of life. Night came amid pleasant sur- 
roundings, and our heads were filled with beautiful 
visions. 



240 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dl\kj)tef XXIII. 

ERUNIG PASS — GIESBACH FALLS — INTERLACHEN — THE JUNG- 
FRAU — THE VALLEY OF LAUTERBRUNNEN — GRINDELWALD — 
BERNE — FREIBURG — GREAT ORGAN — OUCHY — LAUSANNE — 
SIGNAL STATION. 

THE Brunig Pass is full of interest, abounding in 
grand scenes, which culminate at the Brunig 
Culm, a place where I would love to tarry for a 
season. We passed through the town of Brienz, 
noted only for its wood-carving; hastened across the 
lake, and landed at Giesbach. A hard, twenty min- 
utes climb, up a zigzag path, and we reached a little 
table-land, a sunny nook enthroned among the hills. 
A spacious and fashionable hotel, shut in on three 
sides by mountain-tops, seemed strangely out of place, 
but proved an agreeable place to spend the Sabbath. 
The Giesbach is a succession of foaming cascades, 
white and wild; and at night, when illuminated by 
colored lights, forms a fairy spectacle. While a large 
crowd of us sat waiting for the illumination?, four Swiss 
peasant girls came out, dressed in their usual costume 
of short skirts, white waists with stiff, wing-like sleeves, 
and large ribbon-bows on their heads, and large 
silver chains about the neck. There, in the dim 



INTERLACHEN. 24 1 

• 

light, amid the rumbling of the falls, they sang the 
' 'Ranz des Vaches, '' Those wonderfully weird melodious 
choruses are produced by a peculiar falsetto intona- 
tion in the throat, and the remarkable power of the 
voice attained by calling at a distance among the 
Alps. On the high notes, they run up with the ease 
of a bird, and with a fullness of tone that seems to fill 
surrounding space. The wild airs are full of melody, 
and thrilling in effect, and one can not wonder that 
the hearts of the Swiss are so tenderly stirred by them. 

On Monday, we took steamer for a short ride to 
Interlachen, that desirable home of travelers and in- 
valids. It is made up of fine hotels, which are set in 
the midst of pretty flower-gardens. Along the streets, 
magnificent trees stretch out their green arms, inviting 
one to rest under their shadows. A quiet, peaceful 
atmosphere broods over the scene, broken only by 
the gentle song of the river Aar that passes through 
the midst, and links together the waters of Lake Bri- 
enz and Thun. Back of the river rise the tall 
rocks; and beyond, the wooded slopes of the Harder. 
Opposite the town, in another direction, running off 
in the distance, is the vajley of Lauterbrunnen; and, 
guarding the scene, at the end, rises the scowling head 
of the Monch, and that snowy bride, the Jungfrau. 

A little beyond Interlachen, at the right, up among 
the cliffs, stands the ruined Castle of Unspunnen. 
Scattered on and about the borders of the valley, are 
little hamlets, in perfect repose apparently, save when 
their church-bells ring out their evening anthem. 

16 



242 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

It was at that hour the features of the whole scene 
were most impressive; and just after the sun sank in 
the West, the broad shadows stretched across the 
valley, and, in the distance, a deep purple hung over 
the mountains, that seemed to stand apart and at 
a respectful distance from the Jungfrau. Her white 
form stood in cold majesty; then it became suffused 
with a glow of crimson and gold : this Hght changing, 
playing, deepening, with an indescribable effect. And 
when all the valley was wrapped in darkness, the glori- 
ous radiance lingered long on the head of that beau- 
tiful Queen of the Alps. 

On the morning of a perfect day, we set out for a 
trip up the Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald. The val- 
ley of Lauterbrunnen is very contracted in width, 
walled in by precipitous limestone rocks, which are 
ever clothed in cold shadows, and dripping with 
streamlets. In fact, the name Lauterbrunnen signifies 
*^ nothing but fountains;'' and they come down on all 
sides and in every form, — foaming cataracts; laughing, 
tumbling cascades; and little rippling rills. The val- 
ley lies nearly twenty-five hundred feet above the 
level of the sea, and yet so nunk between the mount- 
ains and rocky battlements that, even in Summer, 
the sun comes in only for a few brief hours. 

All the accumulated waters from the ' ' fountains '' 
pour into the White Luteshine — a bright clear stream, 
so covered with foam that it seems almost a mass of 
snow-flakes. 

The upper portion of the valley broadens, and 



MOUNTAIN CHALETS. 243 

near its terminus, hanging over the rocks, a thousand 
feet above you, is what Wordsworth called ^ ' the sky- 
born water-fall." This Staubbach, or Dust-fall, swings 
out from the rocks, and sways in the wind like a 
great misty veil. Standing under the cliffs, in front 
are the shining peaks of the Silverhorn and Gross- 
horn; and to the left, a soft sunny slope against the 
mountain-sides is dotted over with Swiss cottages. 
It is a picture of such peculiar features as is not 
likely to be ever forgotten. 

From Lauterbrunnen, going up the Grindelwald, 
the scenes are diversified and very striking. On the 
way up, a man by the roadside gave us a tune on 
a long, crooked Alpine horn. Most unmelodious 
sounds; but its reproduction among the rocks and 
mountains, improved and beautified, was most en- 
joyable. Great, craggy mountains hem in this val- 
ley; and perched along, almost upon their summits, 
stood scattered the chalets of poor Swiss peasants. 
To these abodes there seemed no visible means of 
access; and the wonder was on what the people 
could subsist. I could think of nothing but goat's- 
milk, honey, and mountain air. In these mountain 
fastnesses they live in content, and nourish a praise- 
worthy patriotism. It' is true of the Swiss, as Rogers 
expressively says: 

*' Dear is the hut to which his soul conforms, 
And dear the hill that lifts him to the storms ; 
And the loud torrent, and the tempests' roar, 
But bind him to his native mountains more." 



244 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

The magnificent glaciers of the Grindelwald, stretch 
down the mountain gorges to their very base. At 
their feet He fresh green meadows, thickly covered 
with cottages — in their peaceful repose, a beautiful 
picture of Alpine pastoral life. In front of this set- 
tlement, at the terminus of the valley, tower the great 
white forms of the Monch and the Eiger, the latter 
rising some twelve thousand feet. Running off toward 
the Wengern Alps is a wild scene. In that region, 
it is said, Byron gathered forms and images that he 
has interwoven in his tragedy of '^Manfred." '^The 
blasted pines,'' which he likens to his own heart's 
desolation, still stands amid the snows. 

It seems incongruous, in the midst of such scenes, 
to find the same evidences of the degeneracy of the 
human race; the same desire to barter and drive sharp 
bargains. Often one is sorely beset to buy toys; and 
unripe fruit is palmed off on the unwary traveler. '* A 
sight of a live chamois for a franc!" cries out a boy: 
and we enter the tent, for we look now in vain for 
them among the mountains. 

From Interlachen we went across the lake of 
Thun. Around it the mountains are grouped in 
picturesque forms. The town has not much of inter- . 
est, though some old castles testify to the fact that it 
was once a favorite spot with the nobility. They 
have mostly gone; but the noble forms of mount- 
ains — the Doldenhorn, the Jungfrau, and the Blumis 
Alp — still add their grand presence to this romantic 
region. 



BERNE. 245 

From Thun to Berne, there is little of interest. 
The city of Berne stands quite above the fertile 
country that surrounds it, and seventeen hundred 
feet above the sea. The river Aar winds about the 
city, and beyond it lie grassy slopes and pleasant 
homes. The environs afford many nice drives along 
shady avenues, and from many spots are seen charm- 
ing views. 

The houses are built mostly of stone, and along 
the business streets run arcaded walks, the second 
story of the houses projecting over them. 

They have in Berne, as elsewhere, a pleasant ar- 
rangement for the comfort of the curious. They 
place soft cushions on the window-sills, so that the 
wives and maidens may rest their elbows on the 
cushions, and their heads on their hands, and gaze 
unweariedly at the" street-sightSc By a strange taste, 
the Bernese have chosen the bear for their emblem, 
and show it in various forms — wooden bears, bronze 
bears, and even live bears — dirty, savage-looking 
pets, we should think them. Among the curious old 
monuments is an old clock, with a family of peram- 
bulating bears, that come out for an airing whenever 
the clock strikes. 

Of course, there is in the old city of Berne a fine 
cathedral, of ancient date, and containing some ob- 
jects of interest. An enormous amount of labor 
has been spent in elaborating the front door, or 
rather above it, which is intended to represent the 
Last Judgment; but it struck us that both the subject 



246 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and the material had proved too heavy for both 
artist and workmen; so that it failed to give either a 
very solemn or just idea of such a scene. 

Just by the side of the cathedral, on the Munster 
Platz — a very high, broa^ terrace, planted with fine 
shade-trees — there is a spot commanding a view of 
the Oberland Alps, that dwarfs the town and all it 
contains; and a daily visit to it would almost recon- 
cile one to spending a life -time in the quiet and unat- 
tractive city. 

I shall never forget the impressions, as I saw them 
from this elevated spot. The first time, it was in the 
early morning, and under a cloudless sky. There 
stood those majestic forms, pure, in snowy covering, 
and glistening in the morning sun. The next time, 
their solemn forms lay in shadow and partially 
shrouded in mist, touching deeply the poetic ele- 
ment in one's nature. There is a telling grandeur in 
these distant views of the mountains, that is often 
lost by the materialistic influence of a nearer ap- 
proach. 

The surroundings of Berne are very pleasant; with 
fine country, charming drives, and magnificent pros- 
pects from many points. Going from the latter city 
to Freiburg, all along on our left the mountain chains, 
with varied form and outline, kept both the eye and 
the fancy pleasantly occupied. The women in that 
region prove their capacity to succeed in agricultural 
pursuits, as the bountiful crops show; and those 
strong-limbed, brown-faced lasses are not the fairy- 



FREIBURG. 247 

like creatures I used to picture roaming through the 

meadows, singing: 

" I love Helvetia's flowery dales, 
Its sunny slopes, and skies so clear." 

The first time we passed through that region, we 
stopped at Freiburg, at the Hotel Zaringer Hof. This 
house has a romantic situation; almost overhanging a 
deep gorge. A little below the house, the gorge is 
spanned by a beautiful suspension-bridge; the rocky 
sides of the ravine handsomely dressed with small 
shrubs and clinging vines. This suspension-bridge is 
the longest in the world, except one. The quaint 
old city has still, in places, a gloomy and dirty 
look. The old wall, with its watch-towers, crooked 
streets, run, like most Swiss towns, in the most m- 
convenient places, and by the most uncomely parts 
of the dwellings. It seems to us a strange perversion 
of taste, that they should have built, at so much in- 
convenience, a city that had to creep up and cling to 
the sides of a ravine, and up and down steep little 
hills, when such a broad and pleasant country lies 
just on the outskirts. However, the great object of 
interest to us, at Freiburg, was the Church of St. 
Nicholas and its great organ, played every noon and 
evening by a renowned organist. We entered, and 
sat down in the dusky silence and shadows of the 
great church, and listened to music that was a revela- 
tion. It commenced with sounds low and sweet as 
the warble of bird-notes, or tlje murmur of the wind 
among the pines, gradually rising to a louder, but 



248 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

plaintive, appealing cry; then, in low, sad tones, dy- 
ing away in the distance, leaving a sense of sorrow 
and hopeless suffering. 

Then came the storm, with distant rumbling thun- 
ders, and the whistle and wail of the wind, each 
moment increasing in its power and fury; howling 
and raving, until we shuddered at its sweeping force. 
Then arose the sweet and thrilling tones of the ''vox 
humana,^^ flowing out into strains joyous, triumphant; 
then softly melting into tones of tenderest emotion, 
and playing upon the most delicate chords of one's 
being. These influences seem to lift one to a purer 
atmosphere, and a higher plane of thought and feel- 
ing. Perhaps we have now in our own country 
music as inspiring; but the surroundings and influ- 
ences of the scenes and associations had wrought their 
spell upon us, and attuned us to the full measure of 
appreciation and enjoyment. 

Our next stopping-place was Lausanne. At Ouchy, 
which is merely the portal of Lausanne, the grand 
Hotel Beaurivage flaunted its flags from its tower, an 
invitation to weary travelers; and the beautifully 
adorned park, with its flowers, green arbors, pleasant 
walks, and the inspiring music of the band, all 
seemed to lure us ; but' we had other plans, and con- 
sequently, went onward and upward toward the 
higher portions of the town, that goes straggling all 
the way up from Lake Leman. On our way up, we 
passed fine, old, palatial-looking abodes, sitting among 
trees, snugly ensconced behind great stone walls, 



LAUSANNE. 249 

over the gates of which the owners place mottoes, 
suggestive of their own satisfied condition; such as, 
'^Beautiful Situation," ^^My Rest/' ^^ Heart's De- 
sire,'' and so on. We were not permitted, or at least, 
we did not venture, to lift the latch and survey the 
interior, to satisfy ourselves whether they were all 
they seemed to indicate. 

Many streets of the town run along in terraces, 
going higher and higher, until one reaches the sum- 
mit of a broad ridge. Some ravines cut through this, 
on the sides and at the bottom of which are many 
houses and streets. These ravines are spanned by 
bridges, in going over which one looks down on 
the house-tops. The latter are reached by long flights 
of steps; and the more one tries to follow the intrica- 
cies of this queer town, the more incomprehensible 
it seems. 

On the elevated sites of Lausanne, the views are 
so fine and the air so pure, that many American and 
English famihes have chosen it for a permanent home. 
The great number of new houses of modern style 
is quite astonishing. The great crowds of market- 
women sitting in the square and thronging the streets, 
in peasant costumes, the queer shops, the curious old 
vehicles, and dashy English turn-outs and gay liver- 
ies, have quite an un-American look. 

We, of course, did not overlook the fact that this 
was the home of Gibbon. The spot we sought out; 
and the fine old church we visited; and we saw, 
posted on the doors of another church, a notice calling 



250 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

the people out to the municipal election, that was 
coming off the following Sunday. This seems a very- 
strange thing, that Protestant Switzerland should so 
fail in the proper observance of the Sabbath. 

Among our pleasantest remembrances of Lausanne 
was our ramble, one afternoon, to the signal station, 
standing far back and above the town, on a tall, 
rocky promontory, commanding a magnificent pano- 
rama. We reached this high point an hour before 
sunset, thus having an opportunity to watch the 
varying effects of the changing light and shade. As 
we stood, to the north of us lay a fine, fertile coun- 
try, sprinkled over with towns, meadows, and vine- 
yards. Away to the south-west, stretching across a 
fertile valley, lay, in the background, the Jura, or 
Savoyard Mountains. To the east of these lay Lake 
Geneva. 

At Geneva, the hills commenced in low and wav- 
ing outline, and gradually increased in height, until, 
opposite us, they rose in bold mountains, whose 
heads seemed to reach the skies, and were ever 
hoary with the accumulated snows of many cent- 
uries. The eye following on from these, fell on 
the unparalleled group that cluster around the trans- 
parent waters of Lake Leman. In that crystal mir- 
ror, their forms and color were softened and greatly 
enhanced. As the sun, in the west, mingled with 
the clouds, long streams of golden light stretched 
up across the heavens, falling on the mountains, 
and tinging the luminous mist that floated lightly 



LAUSANNE. 2$ I 

here and there. The whole combination formed 
one of the grandest pictures I ever hung away in 
the halls of memory; and there it will long rest in 
unfading splendor. 



252 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dl^kftef XXIV. 



LAKE GENEVA AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS — LAKE LEMAN — VEVAY — 
CHILLON — LAUSANNE — COPPET — DIODATI — BYRON — ROUS- 
SEAU — GIBBON — CALVIN — MONT BLANC AT SUNRISE. 

SWITZERLAND is every-where replete with gran- 
deur, beauty, and interest; but about this famous 
lake cluster some of its richest scenes and most inter- 
esting associations. 

The first sight of the Alps marks an era in one's 
life. After that, the varied combinations and im- 
pressions are scarcely less wonderful and exalting; 
and among all the groupings there are, perhaps, 
none combining more of poetic influence, charming 
variety, of beautiful and impressive forms and pic- 
turesque outline, than are seen about Chillon, on 
Lake Leman. 

Coming, the first time I saw it, from Freiburg, we 
left the cars at Gherbrex — a high point on the lake, 
from which the road descends toward Vevay. We 
took a carriage for the latter place. It was late in 
the day. Lake Leman lay at rest, and suffused 
with all the glory of a sunset that seemed to have 
flashed over from Italian skies. In the crystal 



MOUNTAIN TRAVEL. 253 

depths of the lake were mirrored a thousand phases 
of beauty. 

The snow-covered heights of Dent du Midi and 
Dent d'Orche reached high above the wooded hills; 
and on their summits glowed and played the luster 
and warm hues of Italian splendor. Such frescoes 
of earth and sky, so perfect in combination, and so 
rich and harmonious in coloring, satisfy all one's 
longings after artistic perfection. 

The whole upper air was tremulous with a flood 
of glory, whose richest dyes were concentrated upon 
those snow-peaks, and their prismatic rays lingered 
and shimmered there long after twilight had gathered 
over all below. These influences played upon me like 
the wind upon an aeolian harp. The light of that 
glorified hour will often come back to me, with its 
bright beams streaming across the murky valley of 
time, ever cheering and delighting. 

There are moments in life that are moral stepping- 
stones, raising us nearer the influence and atmosphere 
of heaven. Even the remembrance of such hours 
seems ever an inspiration to cheer and a light to 
guide us, and one must ever be the better for these 
experiences. Under such influences, the soul seems 
to expand and reach out toward the infinite, and we 
realize more that we are here but exiled spirits, with 
unutterable and unsatisfied longings for a purer and 
higher state of existence. 

At Vevay, we found crowds of Summer visitors, 
and in the evening the lake was alive with little 



254 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

boats strung with colored lights, that were multiplied 
by reflections ; and it was, altogether, a fairy scene. 

The following morning, we rose with the lark; 
made our breakfast on bread and butter, and such 
honey as is found only in Switzerland. We took a 
carriage, and, amid the quiet influences of a cool, 
gray, morning light, we started for Chillon, in the 
same appreciative spirit Byron felt when he wrote 
the following lines : 

" The morn is up again, the dewy morn, 

With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, 
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn. 

And living as if earth contained no tomb, — 

And glowing into day : we may resume 
The march of our existence ; and thus I, 

Still on thy shores, fair Leman, may find room 
And food for contemplation; nor pass by 
Much, that may give us pause, if pondered fittingly. 



All things are here of Him; from the black pines 
Which are his shade on high, and the loud roar 

Of torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines 

Which slope his green path downward to the shore, 
Where the bowed waters meet him, and adore. 

Kissing his feet with murmurs ; and the woods 
The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar." 

This picture of Byron's needs no addition. As 
we went along toward Chillon, the lake lay at our 
right, and at our left stood a mountain barrier, that 
screened us from the early sun. The grim, gray 
old castle stood cold and silent in the blue waters; 
but it was overarched by the spell of Byron's poetry, 
that gave it warmth and color. This and the 



CHILLON. 255 

surrounding scenes Byron appreciated and loved; 
and better than any other has his pen portrayed. 
What a pity he had not found strength amid these 
scenes to rise higher in the scale of being, and break 
away from the poisonous influences that held down 
his gifted soul! Never, as amid these scenes, had 
he seemed so real a personage. 

One strange thought that stood prominent to me 
in that region was this : that in a region where there 
was so much to move the soul to the worship of the 
Creator, where all his lineaments showed power, 
beauty, majesty, the presiding geniuses had been 
infidels and unbelievers, — Byron at Chillon, Gibbon 
at Lausanne, and Rousseau at Clarens, ^* sweet 
Clarens," that sits enthroned among the hills, and 
in its glorious surroundings is seen written in char- 
acters of light — a language clear and satisfying to 
those who will read, as the language of inspiration, 
the exalted attributes of the great Creator. And it 
seems so strange that those who seemed so thrill- 
ingly alive to the beauty and sublimity of those 
scenes could fail to recognize and adore the Maker 
of them. 

I thought sadly of the perverted gifts of these 
men, and of what must have been their anguish 
when their footsteps neared the borders of eternity, 
'and with cleared spiritual vision they looked back 
upon the chaos of life, and forward into the dark- 
ness that hung like a fearful pall before them, — sad, 
sorry terminus of lives that should have continued to 



256 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

shine with a luster worthy of their gifted minds ! In 
the contemplation, I felt more than ever how terrible 
was the loss of a soul. No wreck so great, no ruin 
so mournful, so pathetically appealing to all the fine 
and tender sensibilities. 

As I crossed the draw-bridge that leads to the 
castle, mingled thoughts of the past came crowding 
upon me; detached scraps from the ''Prisoner of 
Chillon" ran through my brain. To these ill-defined 
remembrances I was enabled to give form by the 
purchase of a pamphlet containing a part of the 
poem, and also to leave a few centimes with the 
aged keeper. 

Of course, the most interesting spot to all is the 
^'dark vault'' where Bonivard was imprisoned. Near 
the end of the long vault, where a narrow slit lets 
in a dim ray of light, stands the pillar to which he 
was chained, and where, for more than six years, he 
listened to the ripple, and often to the dash, of the 
waves against his prison walls. 

Wearily he took his brief walk of three steps, 

day by day, and thus kept alive his benumbing 

faculties, — 

" Having no earthly hope but faith ; 
And that forbade a selfish death." 

During those long, dark years in that moldy cell, 
his faith became not corroded ; and, when released, 
he went to Geneva, to do valiant service in the 
work of the Reformation. 

I care not to dwell on descriptions of other 



SWISS VIEWS. 257 

rooms in the castle, where are still to be seen some 
implements of torture; nor of deep dungeons, down 
which were precipitated the quivering victims of 
persecution. 

The Judgment Hall, where prisoners were tried, 
is a huge, desolate room, with a great, cavernous 
fire-place. Around the room were hung tattered 
flags, taken from different cantons in troublesome 
times. Descending from this down a dark, steep 
stairway, we came into the old court-yard. I picked 
a few ivy-leaves, recrossed the drawbridge, and came 
out in 
" Sense and sight of sweetness, where the Rhone 

Had spread himself a couch, the Alps had reared a throne." 

All along the way back, I seemed viewing- every 
thing through the transfigured medium of poetry, and 
hung away in memory's halls the pictures blended in 
rich but chastened tones. 

Arriving at Vevay, we exchanged our carriage 
for the cars, and started for Geneva. For a dis- 
tance along lay vine-clad hills at our right. Then 
came Lausanne; then a rolling, fertile country, re- 
ceding very gently from the low, green shores. 
About half-way down the lake we passed the little 
town of Coppet, where Madame de Stael took 
shelter from the turbulent world. The gifted au- 
thoress could not have failed to find a constant feast 
in the view of the great Alpine chain running on the 
opposite side of the lake. - 

Not far from Geneva, on the south shore, stands 

17 



258 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Diodati, where for a time Byron lived; where he 
wrote ''Manfred/' and a part of ''Childe Harold." 
It seems as if the spirit of Byron haunted this lake; 
and, as I think of him, I pity his sorrows, and 
deeply regret his errors; but can but thank him 
for the immortal lines in which he has portrayed the 
grandeur, as well as all the nicer shades, of lake and 
mountain, sunshine and storm. 

I have nothing for which to thank Voltaire; and 
it seems his presence at Ferney was a blight, and 
the ground profaned by his feet. From his home is 
one of the finest views of Mont Blanc; and in view 
of all those outspread glories on which God had set 
his seal, Voltaire lurked, like the Serpent in the 
Garden, — by his brilliancy drawing to that Eden the 
intellectual and the honored, and poisoning them by 
his sarcasms and fiery-tongued wit. 

At one time, Voltaire, Rousseau, and John Calvin 
lived at Geneva. 

John Calvin, reading a lesson of God's power in 
the ''everlasting hills,'' alive to every pure and beau- 
tiful influence, hearing a hymn of praise in the 
singing birds, and living in constant spiritual com- 
munion with his Maker, must have been shocked by 
these impious babblers. How his heart must have 
been burdened with sadness, to feel that men so 
wise, so philosophical, so brilliant, could "not dis- 
cern the things of the Spirit!" As these men lived, 
there, so their influence now lives, for good or 
for evil. 



MONT BLANC. 259 

Of the grand nature and fine view of Mont 
Blanc, as seen from Geneva, one would not soon 
weary of talking, and surely never of looking; for, 
in every varying light and change of atmosphere, 
it presents a different phase. Just as the sun set, it 
stood out so large and pure and white it was like 
the apocalyptic vision of **the great white throne." 
As the twilight fell over it, and it stood in its veiled 
beauty and sublime mystery, it spoke to the intellect, 
the eye, the imagination ; for this shadowy veil leaves 
full play for the poetic fancy, and softens and dig- 
nifies material forms. . 

I for a long time watched these scenes daily, and 
have clearly defined memories of them; but the 
most vivid impressions are of a sunrise. 

When I first went out in the gray dawn, a blue, 
cold light spread over the stern Alpine monarch. 
But scarcely was the coming radiance of the sun 
heralded by brilliant rays, ere its beams touched the 
summit of the mountain, that seemed then to 190m 
above all the world; and over it spread an amber 
light, which soon grew almost a vermilion. Quietly 
hanging against the mountain-sides were mist-clouds, 
that were no sooner warmed by the sun's rays than 
they began to be illuminated, and to rise, like the 
fires of a conflagration. They whirled and played 
around the mountain-top, and I stood and gazed, 
entranced by the wondrous spectacle of this sublime 
apostle of nature. And I could only find utterance 



26o SCENES IN EUROPE. 

to my thoughts in the following words of Coleridge, 
in his ^^ Morning Hymn" at Mont Blanc; 

" Rise ! O, ever rise ! 
Rise like a cloud of incense from the earth, 
Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills, 
Thou dread embassador from earth to heaven ! 

Great Hierarch, tell thou the silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and tell the rising sun, 
Earth with her thousand voices speaks of God." 



GENEVA. 261 



GENEVA, MODERN AND ANCIENT — EXCURSIONS — CHAMOUNY — 
SALLENCHES — VILLAGE OF CHAMOUNY — MER DE GLACE-— 
TETE NOIR — FORCLAZ — MARTIGNY. 

»• 

THERE is quite the air of an American city 
about modern Geneva, with its splendid hotels, 
its elegant stores and jewelry-shops, sitting close by 
the shore, and thronged with travelers, and charac- 
terized by quite a bustling air. 

Geneva the ancient, with its tall old houses and 
crooked ways, clings as tenaciously to the hill-side as 
to its ancient manners, dress, and customs, that the 
tide of travel does not touch. 

We chose our home near the lake-shore, where 
all day we could look out upon the beautiful lake, 
watch the steamers coming and going, and the land- 
ing of crowds of passengers. A novelty to us was 
the numerous sail-boats that went flying over the 
water; their lateen-sails made them look like great 
flocks of giant seagulls. The band played in the 
park, opposite our . rooms ; and, all together, the 
influences were quite animating. 

We made some pleasant excursions out in the 



262 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

country, going, among other places, to the palace of 
Baron Rothschild, a couple of miles down, on the 
left bank of the lake. The palace, sitting high up 
on the sloping bank, commands a very fine view of 
Mont Blanc. All that art and money can do to 
embellish that charming spot has been lavishly em- 
ployed, — Summer-houses, rustic grottoes, flowers, 
trees, statues, and pleasant walks where one may 
ramble; but on the grounds an army of servants 
stand guard, dressed in a light-gray uniform, made 
a la Turc. On either side the front door stood, 
like statues, two tall grooms, with powdered hair, 
white neck-ties, blue coats and brass buttons, drab 
breeches, white stockings, and low shoes with huge 
buckles. A band played near the house; and 
through the open windows we had glimpses of pic- 
tures and statues that made us long to enter. We 
had recently seen the old tumble-down house, in 
Judengass Street, Frankfort, where these money- 
kings were born, and our simple thought was, — 

** Tall oaks from little acorns grow." 

One pleasant morning, a party of us rambled 
down the right-hand shore of the lake, and up the 
hill to Diodati, where Diodati, Professor of The- 
ology, lived, when he was visited by Milton; and 
where, in 181 6, Byron spent the Summer, and wrote, 
as is said, ^^ Manfred," and part of ^'Childe Harold.'' 
It commands an extensive view of the lake. Byron's 
description of a storm, written from this spot, 



CHAMOUNY. 263 

floats often through my memory,- — where, he says, 
there 

"Leaps the live thunder. Not from one lone cloud, 
But every mountain now hath found a tongue ; 
And Jura answers, from her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud." 

We walked about the house, that now looks old and 
dreary, and under the avenue of large horse-chest- 
nuts, with thoughts full of by-gones. 

Next mornmg, we took our seats in the diligence, 
for Chamouny. We greatly enjoyed the fine, smooth 
road, and the strongly characteristic Swiss features 
that lie along the famed valley of Chamouny, — 
formed of the same elements, it is true, that one 
often finds in Switzerland, but in combination and 
outline differing from all others. A broad, fertile 
valley, with well-tilled farms and quite pretentious 
buildings, for a time lay along the way; and women 
and children were working with a will to finish the 
Fall farming, while, I suppose, as usual, the men sat 
in the houses, carving wooden wares, and making 
watches for market. 

The speed of the diligence soon brought us into 
a narrow, but not a straight way, that ran against 
the rocks, and gradually wound upward. We entered 
a deep gorge, and rode under the shadow of huge 
rocks, almost frowning over us; while below us, on 
the other side, foamed and tumbled a noisy stream. 
On either hand, the mountain-tops seemed to reach 
the sky, standing bold and clear against the blue 



264 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

heavens. Anon we came upon little strips of valley- 
nestling under or against the tall mountains, up 
whose sides gleamed little Alpine pastures, lying 
fresh and green under the snow-rim. On these al- 
most inaccessible spots were flocks of sheep and 
goats, attended by shepherds or shepherdesses. The 
latter seem almost as indigenous to those spots as the 
grass, the mosses, and ferns. 

This people love to dwell among the mountain- 
tops, and seem imbued with all the essential elements 
of the scenes. There they sit, noting the phenomena 
of storm and calm, or the mist-cloud whirling in the 
wind. They grow familiar with the faces of the 
rocks and mountains; their ear becomes keenly at- 
tuned to the voices of the torrents : so that all their 
varied melodies are to them like household hymns. 

This is the poetical side; but the hard, stern life 
of the Swiss forces upon one the fact that they have 
not, in Switzerland, reached Arcadia, and that the 
march of improvement has been very slow amid 
scenes that in themselves are vastly inspiring and 
elevating. Dwelling on these thoughts, I found my- 
self more and more puzzled on the question of the 
influence of climate and scenery. 

Weary and hungry, we arrived at Sallenches, 
which sits under great beetling crags, with an out- 
look that takes in more of the majestic form of 
Mont Blanc than we elsewhere obtained. We, how- 
ever, saw it in the '^garish light of day," and it 
shguld be seen at sunrise or sunset. 



CHAMOUNY. 263 

After a substantial repast at Sallenches, we hur- 
ried on our course, constantly charmed with the 
succession of grand and beautiful views. Much of 
the way we ran under the shadow of the tall mount- 
ains that lay at our right; and at our left ran the 
river Arve, that went noisily over and among the 
rocks. Here and there opened out narrow valleys, 
that were on either hand walled by mountains whose 
sides were covered with firs and pines; and quite 
above these gleamed the snow-peaks. These great 
and violent contrasts surprise and charm, giving 
sensations and experiences before unfelt. 

As we wended our way up toward Chamouny, 
the sun shone out gloriously, and, in setting, gave 
us some striking illuminations of the snowy mountain- 
tops. Some one has said that ^* mountains are the 
nearest neighbors to heaven;'^ and we accept the 
idea, after witnessing the gorgeous colors of the 
snow-peaks. They seemed a brilliant reflection from 
that city that is made of gold, ruby, amethyst, and 
jasper. No word-painting can do justice to such a 
picture. 

A little after sunset we found that little village 
of Chamouny, perched, like a bird's-nest, high up 
among the mountains. When the morning light 
dawned upon it, we found it only interesting because 
of its situation. The nature of the surroundings are 
all-satisfying, and varying with every phase of light 
and shade. When the setting sunhght falls on the 
brown rocks and hchens and ferns, it lends a 



266 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

wondrous charm ; but as the shadows fall over the 
valley, and all the concentrated splendors of the 
dying day-god rests on the head of the sovereign 
monarch of that region, there steals over one an 
almost superstitious feeling : the scudding clouds 
seem like the genii of the strange scene, and the 
stars look dim and pale, the moon shines with 
a weird light, darkness lies amid the glens and 
gorges, and the great Boisson Glacier hangs like a 
boding spirit over the scene. I saw nowhere any 
thing so impressively solemn. In the poverty of 
prose, I may be excused for quoting Byron; a thing, 
it is said, no traveler can avoid: 

** Above me are the Alps, 
The palaces of nature, whose vast walls 

Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, 
And throned eternity in icy halls 
Of cold sublimity ; where forms and falls 

The avalanche, the thunder-bolt of snow. 
All that expands the spirit, yet appals. 

Gather around these summits." 

From Chamouny, one can make many interesting 
excursions; first, and most inviting, seems the Mere 
de Glace. The season was late, and the rain coming 
down vigorously; but sight-seers must have a brave 
spirit, and, in face of the storm and a slippery path, 
up the mountain we must go. We mounted our 
strong, sullen-looking mules; they set oif on a hard 
trot for half a mile, and I was thankful when the 
ascent began. The way was steep and slippery. 
For some time I sedulously watched the ears of my 



THE GLACIERS. 26/ 

stalwart mule; for the ears are sure indicators of 
the temper and designs of the animal. Between 
him and my garrulous guide, whose tongue had been 
set going by some stimulus, my attention was ab- 
sorbed until we were far up the mountain, when I 
suddenly took in the magnificent panorama of valley 
and mountains that lay clear and extended before 
me. Soon the clouds and storm increased as we 
went onward and upward, and we welcomed the 
chalet where we found shelter and refreshment. For 
a little time the sky cleared sufficiently to give us a 
view of the frozen sea. Its great billowy masses 
seemed suddenly to have congealed in the midst of 
a tremendous storm. The broken waves were frozen 
in clusters and points and splintered pinnacles, called 
needles. Great, deep crevasses, with a deep-green 
color, yawned amid the billows, ready to swallow 
those who are fool-hardy enough to try the slippery 
crossing. My ambition did not tempt me in that 
direction, and we came down the same path by 
which we ascended. 

The night before we left Chamouny we had a 
light fall of snow. Our conveyances were hard, 
springless, lumbering, open vehicles, drawn by mules. 
Three vehicles were brought in requisition for our 
party. For some distance our road led through a 
narrow valley. Tall mountains shut it in, and great 
rivers of ice hung down their sides. Evergreen- 
trees, balsams, and spruces, mingling with the Au- 
tumn fohage of bright-colored leaves and the fresh 



268 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

fallen snow, formed a charming scene. Along our 
way were, profusely sprinkled, low, picturesque 
Swiss cottages. The broad roofs were loaded with 
stones, the balconies hung with maize. The sides 
were weather-stained, and the windows small, sug- 
gesting little of cheerfulness or comfort. The Swiss 
cottages form a picturesque feature in the landscape; 
but a Swiss village is quite devoid of any charms 
whatever. The narrow streets run like sheep-paths, 
in devious windings. One moment you are in front 
of a house ; the next, one stands in front of you : 
and you must make a violent turn, perhaps bringing 
up at some tumble-down back-door, or, worse still, a 
barn-yard, among the cows and goats. 

At the village of Argentiere we commenced the 
ascent of the T^te Noir, which for a little way was 
very steep and rugged. At our right rose cheerless, 
rocky mountains; and between us and them a noisy 
stream Avent grumbling among broken fragments of 
granite. At our left loomed the group of the 
'^Aguille Rouge," their splintered pinnacles seeming 
to pierce the sky. A little farther on, we made a 
turn to the right, and came into an elevated valley, 
where the snow had melted away, and a perfect 
June freshness clothed the scene. The mountains 
that framed it in were covered with dark forests, 
and back of these the taller peaks were radiant and 
glistening in the sunlight and fresh-fallen snow. 

The scenes were constantly and greatly diver- 
sified; and here, as elsewhere, I found myself so 



TfiTE NOIR. 269 

often watching the great white clouds that whirled 
and played about the mountain-tops, and, in their 
fantastic forms and changing phases, kept the imag- 
ination constantly enkindled, and softened the asper- 
ities of all the scene. 

Scattered along, on turfy, sunny spots, occasion- 
ally stood little Swiss cottages. Around the doors 
were many light-haired, chubby-cheeked children. 
The women, often in companies of half a dozen, 
were doing their washing in the cold mountain 
streams. They looked strong and healthy; and 
chatted and laughed, while they were on their knees 
bending over their cold work, as if it were a pleasant 
pastime. 

Crossing a little bridge, our driver mentioned that 
we were on the boundary-line of France and Switzer- 
land. On either side of us arose tall, rocky mount- 
ains, whose summits seemed to pierce the skies. 
Great bowlders lay in confused heaps by the road- 
side, covered with accumulated gatherings of green 
and gray mosses. Our road was now constantly 
ascending, and, by skillful engineering, built cling- 
ing against the face of the rocks. Almost perpen- 
dicularly below us, hundreds of feet, lay a quiet, 
fertile valley; and a look into it from our eyrie 
made us feel as if suspended midway between 
heaven and earth. At one place the rocks jut out, 
and a tunnel is pierced through to make a passage 
for the road, and a look downward was attended 
with a most unpleasant sensation. 



270 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

A little beyond this passage stands the Hotel 
Tete Noir — a plain, unfurnished, cheerless abode; 
nevertheless, furnishing '^refreshment for man and 
beast." The room given us contained a pine table 
and a few wooden chairs. The floor was bare, and 
we were cold. A few fagots were brought in; 
and soon the ample fire-place sent out at least a 
cheerful glow, but very little warmth. A dinner 
was served us there, consisting of mutton, potatoes, 
cold tongue, and omelet. After dinner, we went 
out to the barn to see specimens of the celebrated 
St. Bernard dogs — good-natured, half-human looking 
animals. 

The scenery about this hotel is very wild. Soon 
after leaving it, we turned to the right, and entered 
a forest of pines and firs. The trees were very 
tall and slender, bearing branches only near the 
tops. They grew among confused piles of rocks, 
without any apparent sustenance. The bare roots 
ran out over the rocks in all directions, as if in 
pursuit of nourishment; but how it was supplied 
we could not understand. However, the trees and 
the mossy rocks added to the charming and won- 
derful variety of interesting objects that abound in 
the passage of the T^te Noir. 

Leaving this dark forest, we entered a narrow 
valley, hemmed in by stupendous mountains; and 
again, in zigzag course, ascended, amid rocks and 
precipices, glaciers and gorges, and soon reached 
the summit of the pass. The altitude is not so 



MOUNTAIN VILLAGES. 2/1 

great; but for wonderful variety this pass is almost 
unequaled. 

At Forclaz, the traveler may take a cross-path 
to the St. Bernard. We satisfied ourselves with a 
distant view of that celebrated region, letting im- 
agination revel in its numerous charms, that lay 
clothed in snow, and softened by purple mist. 

A little beyond Forclaz opens one of the most 
celebrated prospects among the Alps. A broad, 
green, fertile valley, of great extent, lies spread dis- 
tinctly before the eye. Thriving towns dot its 
bosom. Through the valley winds the river Rhone, 
and mountains of grand and varied outline, with 
broken links and groups, frame the scene. 

We met many peasants, in their peculiar cos- 
tumes, coming up from the valley. They had long 
baskets strapped upon their backs, bringing to their 
mountain homes the articles purchased, consisting 
mostly of food, and especially bread — which almost 
invariably is made by bakers, and not in their own 
homes. They are a famously frugal people. 

Along our road, as we came down, lay rich 
meadow-lands, and large groves of chestnut-trees, 
among which were many quaint little towns; and 
we met many large herds of cows — butter and 
cheese making being the principal resources of 
the people. 

Ere we reached Martigny, twilight ^^shut her 
curtain down,'' and a full moon shed a softened 
radiance over vaCTley and mountain, softening, but 



2J2 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

glorifying, all the scene. One such day, so full 
of varied and stirring experiences, so replete with 
enjoyment, does the work of many weeks of emo- 
tionless time. 



THE RHONE VALLEY. 2/3 



Cl|kj)tef XXVI. 



MARTIGNY — THE RHONE VALLEY — BRIEG — ITS INHABITANTS — 
A TERRIBLE SNOW-STORM, OR TOURMENTE, ENCOUNTERED 
ON THE SIMPLON PASS— GRANDEUR OF THE PASS — DISCOM- 
FORTS — DELAY — ITALIAN SIDE OF THE PASS — ITALIAN 
VALLEYS. 

FROM Martigny, the old Octodurus of the Ro- 
mans, we started, by cars, for a distance; and 
then by diligence rolled at a little less speed through 
the valley. All the way, relics of by-gones showed 
we were in the track of history. In this lay much 
of the interest. It is true the great mountain chains 
have their elements of grandeur; but they are sug- 
gestive of disasters : for down their precipitous sides, 
and through the gorges, often come destructive floods, 
sweeping away houses, and sometimes whole settle- 
tlements, spreading destruction and desolation on 
all sides. 

The district is malarious; the dilapidated towns 
full of foul odors; the inhabitants miserably poor, 
and afflicted with goiter and cretinism. 

We were thankful for the bright October air, and 
the sunshine, that accompanied us through the valley. 
At three in the afternoon we landed at Brieg, a little 
old town we found sitting on a green and pleasant 

i8 



2/4 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

slope of the Simplon, some two thousand four hun- 
and sixty feet above the sea. We strayed about the 
crooked streets, seeing Httle in the way of architec- 
tural interest, save an old monkish college and an 
Ursuline convent. 

At the time of our visit, something similar to our 
county fairs was being held; though they had no 
shelter. Articles were exhibited in simple wooden 
booths and on old tables, set by the roadside. Fires 
were built along, gypsy-fashion, and the pots and 
kettles boiling from suspended hooks. The men were 
mostly in blue blouses; and the women in short, full 
skirt, black, peasant waist, laced with red, and on 
their heads huge bows of black ribbon, that gave to 
their dark, stupid faces a peculiar, bat-like look. 
They stared at us, chatted with each other in a quiet, 
good-natured way; but I doubt if they could ever 
be aroused to any thing like mirth or jollity: the 
tenor of their lives, and all their surroundings, are of 
too somber a character. A few poor, lank-looking 
animals w^ere brought in for exhibition, and tied to 
the fences. I suppose this people, in their way, get 
their full share of happiness ; for 

"Bred in ignorance and toil, 
Each wish contracting fits them to the soil." 

That night, the rain came down in torrents, rat- 
tling the windows and shaking the house; and at 
the early hour of four we were called up for our 
day's journey. Our breakfast was poor and cold, 
and soon dispatched. In the gloom of the early 



MOUNTAIN ROAD. 2/5 

morning, we took our places in the diligence; and of 
the number of passengers were five Americans, two 
English ladies, an Irish gentleman, an English physi- 
cian, and a Russian officer. We all had high hopes 
of a day of rare enjoyment. We had often read all 
about this wonderful road — one of the daring projects 
of that bold man. Napoleon I. Its great width, the 
immense time and labor expended in its construction, 
are features of interest. But the great attraction is 
the wild sublimity of its scenery. Subject to ava- 
lanches, twenty-six houses of refuge for the safety 
of travelers are placed along the way. In some of 
the most dangerous places, galleries are constructed 
through the projecting rocks. All this we had fresh 
in mind as we set out. 

Wending our way up from Brieg, looking back- 
ward, we had many grand and extensive views of 
the Rhone Valley, and the town of Brieg, whose 
guardian spirit seemed to be the great Glisshorn 
Mountain. As we turned to the left, this view was 
hidden, and we ran along on the verge of a tremen- 
dous precipice. At the bottom of this, a roaring 
torrent bubbled and foamed, as it angrily forced a 
passage in the narrow gorge. Above us rose the 
mountain ramparts. Near the road they were studded 
with oaks and chestnuts — gnarled, scathed, savage- 
looking trees, grown sturdy by fierce battles with the 
mountain storms. Among these were moldy old 
rocks, and a sprinkling of lichens and ferns. In 
places, great, deep gorges seemed to have split the 



2/6 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

mountain asunder; and in these rents were glaciers, 
that seemed ready to rush down upon us. We were 
told that a clear October air was most favorable to 
sight-seeing, and we constantly hoped for brighter 
skies; but instead came snow; and this, soon increas- 
ing, blocked the wheels, the diligence dragged heav- 
ily, and at Berisal it had to be abandoned for sledges. 
Cold and shivering, we took our seats in these; and, 
with a meagre amount of wrappings and a forlorn 
prospect, we started forward, our cavalcade con- 
sisting of three sledges, about a dozen men with 
shovels, and about a dozen benighted traveling peas- 
ants, Swiss and Italian, who preceded us. 

We were then in the midst of scenery that John- 
son thus describes: 

^*Just here, a picture of desolation surrounds the 
traveler. The pine has no longer the scanty pittance 
of soil which it requires for nourishment. The 
hardy but beautiful Alpine flower ceases to embel.- 
lish the sterile solitude; and the eye wanders over 
snow and glaciers, and fractured rocks and roaring 
cataracts. All this is relieved only by this stupen- 
dous monument, the road itself winding along the 
edges of the precipices, penetrating the primeval gran- 
ite, striding over the torrents, and burrowing through 
the dark and dripping grottoes.^' 

These scenes were now buried under a mantle of 
snow, which seemed to have come down in masses. 
Instead of the glorious Summer views, it was given 
us to experience all the horrors of an Alpine storm; 



ALPINE STORM. 2^^ 

one that was said by the natives not to have been 
equaled in twenty-five years — called by them '^ Tour- 
mentes," or ^^Guxen." The storm raged furiously, 
and dashed into our faces with blinding force. All 
the atmosphere was filled with snow. Huge masses 
were soon piled along the way and around us, obliter- 
ating every landmark; and often we were almost 
hanging on the verge of precipices, ''over which the 
headlong plunge was to eternity." Our way became 
blocked. Along the road, snow-banks from ten to 
fifteen feet high were formed in a few moments. 
We, too, were submerged, and driver and team 
stopped b^. the blinding force of the storm. The 
wind howled, the torrents roared down the gorges; 
and, to add to the terrors of the scene, we were 
every moment' exposed to avalanches, which are of 
frequent occurrence in that locality. Every few 
moments we had to be dug and pried out by the 
mountaineers, who accompanied us with their shovels. 
Over dangerous passes, and amid such a war of 
elements, we reached the Hospice. Its doors were 
thrown invitingly open, and hospitable faces looked 
out at the windows, as if bidding us welcome. In- 
stinct, inclination, judgment, all moved some of us 
to stop at the Hospice; but we were overruled, and 
compelled to go on with the party. I shall ever 
hereafter appreciate the work of those benevolent 
monks, and love the very dogs that go out in pursuit 
of the snow-bound traveler. Some time before we 
reached the Hospice, a noble dog of the St. Bernard 



2/8 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

breed came out to meet us. His eye, as he looked 
at us, seemed full of sympathy. He ran around our 
sledge, and cried with a low, half-human, appealing 
tone, which, plain as words, seemed to say. Come 
share our shelter, and avoid the danger. From the 
Hospice we had but a prolonged and wretched expe- 
rience of what I have before described. The dis- 
tance to the next refuge was but one mile; and yet, 
with all the efforts put forth by man and beast, we 
were three hours and a half making the distance. 

To add to our horrors, night was coming on, and 
we in blinding, pathless snow. Our * wrappings were 
wet through, from melting snow, and we thoroughly 
chilled. As the darkness approached, a feeling of 
stoical despair settled down upon us. At length, we 
came near the refuge. A last expiring effort was 
made by the worn-out animals, and they stopped. 
The mountaineers came for us; and each lady, with 
her arms about the neck of her guide, with feet and 
body dangling down his back, was carried through 
the snow, into which he sunk to his hips at every step. 

These refuges are mere rough shelters; the ground 
story used for mules, the second story for the human 
family, and the third, or attic, for dead animals — 
sheep and hogs killed, dressed, and hung up, to last 
through the long Winter months. 

From my landing-place 1 climbed up a dirty pair 
of stairs, and went into a room lighted by two tallow 
candles. The traveling band of Swiss and Italians, 
who had preceded us, some twenty in number, now 



DISCOMFORTS. 279 

filled the room. The snow which had fallen from 
them had melted, and stood in pools of water. Pass- 
ing through this, we were given a room, cold, gloomy, 
and cheerless to the last degree. Five coarse, rough 
beds, a wooden table, and a wooden bench, consti- 
tuted the furniture. There was no possibility of 
getting fire or food, although we had fasted since four 
in the morning. Our only alternative was the hard 
beds and still damp clothes. At eleven o'clock, we 
were aroused from a troubled slumber, to take some 
hot spiced wine. 

About nine, next morning, the traveling band of 
peasants left the room occupied by them, and a 
breakfast was prepared on a rough pine table. We 
donned our damp garments, improyising such changes 
as our scanty resources allowed. We sat down to a 
table set with old earthen plates and tin spoons. 
Our first course was mutton-soup, with strong Swiss 
cheese grated and put in for seasoning. The next 
was bacon; then came stewed mutton, and, as the 
Russian officer said, ''very much potatoes." We 
had some black coffee, in common quart-bowls, with- 
out either cream or sugar. This course removed, we 
had hot spiced wine, and cheese made of goat's-milk. 

At ten o'clock, we put on the remainder of our 
wet garments, resumed our seats in the sledges, and, 
in a pouring rain, started for Simplon village, three and 
a half miles. By the assistance of twenty men to 
shovel, and fourteen mules ahead of us to break the 
track, the distance was accomplished in about five 



280 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

hours. Once there, we were prepared to appreciate 
a comfortable fire, dry beds, and good fare; and 
grumbled not that we were detained some four days 
at this wild mountain nook, listening to the constantly 
pouring rain, and looking in vain for some break in 
the heavy clouds. Behind us, and ahead of us, came 
most discouraging accounts of avalanches, torrents, 
and floods. The perils our company had encoun- 
tered together united all the nationalities, and we 
had pleasant social gatherings in the dining-room 
after dinner each day. 

The fifth morning, a messenger announced the 
avalanches had doubtless all fallen, the road had 
been shoveled through, and we could be released 
from our storm-bound prison. 

About the village of Simplon are grouped some 
very majestic mountains. Prominent are the Fliete- 
horn, with its twin peaks, and the Rossbockenhorn. 
The latter is over thirteen thousand feet high. From 
this settlement to Domo d'Ossola is the wildest and 
grandest part of the Simplon Pass. Our passage 
down was by steep zigzags, in among late fallen ava- 
lanches, by the deep gorges, and through the won- 
derful galleries. Sometimes the ravines were very 
narrow, and bald slate-rock rose almost perpendicu- 
larly on either side, and hung threateningly over our 
heads. Huge bowlders lay along the way in mam- 
moth heaps, and piled in picturesque confusion. 

The river Diveria swept noisily toward Italy; 
innumerable streamlets leaped over the rocks, or 




■-■"A^r 



View of the Alps. 



Face Page 280 



VAL D'OSSOLA. 28 1 

dashed down the mountains, assuming varied and 
fantastic forms. There were many editions of the 
Giesbach, Staubbach, Trenton, and Minnehaha. All 
of these went to swell the Diveria, and give it strength 
and dignity ere it reached the Val d'Ossola. Every 
thing in this grouping of objects seemed formed to 
stir all the emotions of the sublime, in this place 
almost unparalleled for wild and stern grandeur. At 
the gorge of the Gondo is a gallery five hundred 
feet in length, cut through a projecting rock, and 
hanging over a tremendous precipice. A noisy water- 
fall pours over it, taking huge leaps to its bed below. 
After a little, we began to approach where there was 
a sprinkling of verdure. The trees and shrubs began 
to climb up the mountain-sides; and there stood 
scathed and gnarled oaks, harmonizing in their age 
and roughness with the wild surroundings. Then 
came chestnuts, and dark, spiky-topped cypresses; and 
soon opened upon our view a soft green Italian valley, 
with its brighter hues and milder airs. Here was 
perfect June freshness. Grape-vines trailed along 
the trellises, forming, with their yellow leaves, bright 
ornaments on the mossy meadows. 

Along on the mountains that bordered this Val 
d'Ossola, on some projecting points or table-lands, 
high up the sides, amid little groves and vines, were 
old Italian villas, with their dingy white-walled 
houses and prominent square towers. On either 
side of the valley ran a chain of giant mountains, 
whose round, hoary heads, or dark, splintered points 



282 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Stood out in " bold relief against the sky, and were 
impressively grand. A fine macadamized road ran 
through the valley, and scattered along were many 
characteristic Italian towns. The buildings were an- 
tique and grim, bearing the accumulated marks of 
centuries. The streets were narrow, crooked, and 
dirty. Tailors, shoemakers, and industrious women 
plied their calling on the sidewalk. Then there were 
barefooted children in almost a state of nudity, their 
few tattered garments seeming neither ornamental 
nor useful. Their faces were begrimed with dirt ] and 
from out these dark surroundings shone great, deep, 
lustrous eyes, like planets in the twilight. Many 
of the men seemed but children of larger growth, 
with threadbare, patched clothes of ^'many colors." 
These lounged about with an air of philosophic con- 
tentment, waiting for chance to supply their bare 
necessities. In truth, so idle and unthrifty are these 
Italians, it seems all the products of that region must 
be spontaneous. A few crops of maize were grown, 
and were being gathered by the women, carried by 
some in bundles, on their heads. The husked ears 
were strung up, and hung in yellow wreaths about 
the balconies, to dry. 

In the green meadows, the women were tending 
the cows, keeping them in their allotted space. 
Meantime they were industriously spinning with a 
distaff in one hand, and twirHng a spindle with the 
other, and winding it up in a way I can not explain. 

We met many companies of men and women, who 



ITALIAN PEOPLE. 283 

were bringing their herds down from their Summer 
grazings on the Alps. The jingle of the cow-bells 
made the valley musical. Long-eared little donkeys, 
attached to a sort of dog-cart, drew loads of cooking 
utensils, blankets, and other camp equipage. Each 
one carried his own tent in the form of immense 
cotton umbrellas, some of which were bright red, 
some green, or other bright color, with a gay border. 
The women wore short skirts of some thick material, 
gay-colored aprons, and bright plaid kerchiefs about 
the shoulders. Love of bright colors seems inherent 
in the Italian nature, and is nurtured by their sur- 
roundings. Here the hills, the valleys, the foliage, 
the flowers, the sunsets, are all seen and expressed 
in such gorgeous hues as to inflame the imagination. 
Imbued with these feelings and influences, the 
Italian artists have made their canvas glow with a 
depth and richness of coloring unequaled. Their 
senses are steeped in the beautiful; and the product 
has been pictures radiant with richest hues, and mar- 
ble forms that palpitate. These are the natural prod- 
ucts of the country and its influences. Wallace says 
that in Italy ^4ife, thought, passion^ manners, all 
things, partake of an aesthetic quality. An ethereal 
stream of ideal sentiment seems to float over the 
land, and refract all perceptions, feelings, and objects 
into beautiful forms and colors." 



284 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikj)tef XXVII. 

THE ITALIAN LAKES — LAGO MAGGIORE — ISOLA BELLA — LUGANO— 
COMO — MILAN — LEONARDO DA VINCI — MILAN CATHEDRAL — 
TURIN — COUNTRY — MONT CENIS TUNNEL. 

AS we approached Maggiore, we passed the cel- 
ebrated marble-quarries that for centuries have 
been worked, and yet are not exhausted. Our road 
ran close along the lake-shore. At our right lay- 
gently undulating hills, brightened by pleasant villas. 
It seemed strange to see buildings painted in two 
colors. The lower story of one, I remember, was 
pink, and the upper sky-blue. However, as they sat 
embowered in rich foliage, they looked not glaring ; 
only like a brilliant flower. 

At our left, as we rode, Lago Maggiore sparkled 
in the sunlight; and its soft-green islands, after our 
stern experiences on the Simplon, seemed like *'the 
isles of the blessed.'' Away across the lake, many 
white towns went straggling up the hill-sides, running 
in and out among the grape vineyards, and olive and 
chestnut groves. High over and beyond this tropical 
atmosphere, there stood, in stern aspect, cold, snow- 
covered mountains. They, however, merely peep 
over into this region, keeping their cold blasts 



ISOLA BELLA. 285 

chained up in their own icy regions. At sunset, 
they were warmed with a deep vermihon tint, and 
gave another illustration of the brilliant coloring 
peculiar to the '*land of many hues." 

After our eventful journey, we were glad to spend 
a day or two at Stressa. Our hotel, the Isle de 
Boromeo, stood in a beautiful little park, adorned 
with flowers, choice shrubs, fountains, and pleasant, 
cozy arbors; and commanded magnificent views. 
The rooms were spacious, clean, and well furnished. 

We went out, a little way across the lake, to visit 
Isola Bella, a spot for generations past the home of 
the counts of Boromeo. The palace is spacious, old, 
and very curious. It was a favorite stopping-place 
of Napoleon I, on his expeditions through that 
region. The charm of the island lies in the 
wonderful variety and beauty of trees and plants 
and flowers. From the water's edge, around the 
island, ten terraces rise, one above the other. Along 
these ran hedges of lemon and orange trees, laden 
with fruit. Tropical trees abounded — the palm, the 
magnolia, camphor-tree, tea-plant, and rare flowers — 
the odor of which filled the air with their richness. 
Along some of the terraces ran arcades, adorned 
with pendant vines. In places the rocks were pic- 
turesquely piled, and ornamented with many varieties 
of feathery ferns and cactus. It was altogether a 
luxurious and most enchanting spot. 

Isola Madrea lies at a little distance, and has, too, 
its charms and history. 



286 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

From Stressa we took steamer for our onward 
voyage, crossing and recrossing the lake, running 
often along the shores, where the great mountains 
sat with their feet in the water and their heads in 
the clouds. On sunny spots, and out on craggy 
points, were little settlements, hoary as the rocks. 

We landed at Luino, a poor-looking old town, 
where, along the beach, were squads of lazy, idle 
men, and dwarfed and sallow-faced women, in tawdry 
finery and slovenly garb. Well-fed, saucy-looking 
monks, in greasy gowns, sandals, and stockingless 
feet, wandered in and out of an antiquated church; 
and here and there, in the church and along the 
streets, were statues of Madonnas, dressed in gay 
fabrics, and bedizened with tinsel ornaments. That 
taste must be crude indeed that can have devotional 
feelings suggested or assisted by such objects. 

Going, as we did in our route, so often across 
the line separating Switzerland from Italy, we were 
constantly observant of, and strongly impressed with, 
the healthy influences of Protestantism, and the sad, 
demoralizing effects of Romish teachings. We cor- 
dially subscribe to the impressions and decision of 
Dickens, who says: ^'I do n't know whether I have 
mentioned before, that, in the regions where Protest- 
ant and Catholic cantons lie side by side, you might 
separate two perfectly distinct and different condi- 
tions of humanity, by drawing a line with your stick 
in the dust on the ground, — on the Protestant side, 
neatness, cheerfulness, industry, education, continued 



LUGANO. 287 

aspirations after better things; on the CathoHc side, 
dirt, disease, ignorance, squalor, and misery." 

However, in even such unpropitious soil, there 
sometimes spring up, of the genus homo, rare ex- 
otics, that shed beauty and fragrance around them. 
In this particular spot sprang up such an one; and 
for more than aught else, to-day, is dull old Luino 
boastful of having given to the world Bernardino 
Luini, a skillful pupil of Leonardo da Vinci. We 
saw many of Luini's frescos and pictures, whose rare 
merits are the theme of connoisseurs. To us they 
seemed, with all their merits, somewhat deficient in 
depth and strength of character and color. 

At Luino we stopped only for a few hours, ob- 
tained a poor and expensive dinner at a dirty inn, 
and then took a diligence for Lugano, a town sit- 
uated on a beautiful little lake of the same name. 
This town, of some six thousand inhabitants, is 
thoroughly Italian in all its features. The houses are 
dark, rickety, and moldy. Against the fronts hang 
tottering balconies. Along the narrow streets run 
heavy arcades ; and under these are carried on traffic 
in all kinds of goods and provisions, by dwarfish 
women and ugly-looking men. The very tall mount- 
ains almost hang above the town, and shut in the 
clear blue waters of the lake with as wild a setting 
as ever circled such a mirror. Some of the mount- 
ains are jagged and splintered, some abounding in 
luxurious vegetation, and some are lighted almost to 
the top with villas and church-steeples. 



288 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Along the mountain-sides, there crop out great 
varieties of rocks, — gray limestone, and dark-veined 
white and reddish marble, over which, in patches, 
were sulphur-colored lichens, tufts of moss, sprays 
of fern-leaves ; and, as a pleasant writer says, ' ' there 
was the little bluebell, that had exchanged the clear 
blue of the Scottish covenanters for the purple of the 
Romish hierarchy/' 

Our steamer ran close by the shore often, where 
were glens, gorges, grottoes, ravines, water-falls. 
The foliage had, some of it, an Autumn tinge. 
These things, with the great snow-capped mountains, 
make up the setting of the secluded little waters of 
Lago Lugano. Among these scenes our steamer 
glided in zigzag course, so that we saw almost every 
thing twice over; and were glad to do so, and sorry 
when we were landed at Porlezzio. In this wild- 
looking place we had no desire to tarry; for the 
people we saw had a strikingly brigandish look. 
We hastily secured seats in a diligence, and started 
on our way; but, in leaving the place, looked upon 
some points away above it, where we would gladly 
have stood to take in views said to be surpassingly 
grand. 

Our road ran through a winding valley^ of diver- 
sified scenes. Great, rocky hills bordered it — some- 
times near, and sometimes distant. Small lakes and 
gray old towns were strewn along. Sometimes we 
ran through dark forests of pine, ilex, and chestnut, 
so dense as to throw a funereal tinge around, and 



ITALIAN FORESTS. 289 

reminding one of stories of Italian banditti. There 
is a peculiar gloom about an Italian forest, which 
is not altogether the result of a train of associated 
ideas. 

I think, among all the different features that give 
expression to a landscape, one of the most impressive 
is that of great, dense, silent woods, — a great mass 
of living forms, each bearing marks of distinct indi- 
viduality, as varied in their phases of development, 
almost, as the human family. The pine, bristling 
with spears and plumes, stands like a strong, defiant 
warrior; the aspen, white, and looking bloodless and 
hoary, like an old man; the holly, like a conquering 
hero, wearing his green wreaths grandly; the olive, 
gnarled and knotted by the growth of centuries, 
reminds one of the scars and wounds and distorted 
figures of some hapless persons with whom life has 
been a scene of strife and hardship. Colors, also, 
have their share in the impressions received. A soft 
green gives a feeling of repose, dark green a tinge 
of melancholy; while bright colors stimulate. 

Amid the woods, valleys, and hills, we wound 
along toward Lago Como. At Menagio, lying on its 
shores, we were to take steamer for Como. We had 
a little leisure to look about the town, and mark the 
rapid rise of modern buildings, that indicated what 
the tide of travel was doing for such secluded places. 

Lago Como, straggling in irregular outline for 
thirty miles, and bearing along its shores such diver- 
sified and characteristic features, seems to attract 

19 



290 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

around its shores great numbers from all portions 
of the world. 

Along the shores run almost a succession of towns 
and villas; the hills are rich in vegetation; luxuriant 
grape vineyards run up in terraces, while clumps of 
chestnuts, groves of orange, pomegranate, and laurel, 
lend each a charm, shaded by a mixture of sober 
gray olives, *^ those mystic trees that are said to have 
paled into a sad tint, out of sympathy for the Divine 
One who once sat under their shade." 

Among the woods and trellised vines stand Italian 
villas of ancient and modern date, some possessing 
much architectural beauty. Around these are a pro- 
fusion of flowers, vases, and marble statues, be- 
speaking the aesthetic taste of the inmates. The 
mountains are of formidable height; churches and 
villas hang high up against their sides; while lying 
at their feet, in cool shadow, sit many Summer 
homes of the Italian noblesse. The King of the 
Belgians has also' a villa, from which the Belgic flag 
was flying. A little below was pointed out the spot 
where the two Plinys lived. 

The brightly painted pleasure-boats on the lake, 
lined with scarlet cushions, and the boatmen, in 
white clothes trimmed with scarlet, were very fanciful 
and brilliant in effect. 

As we glided along amid scenes of absorbing 
interest, dark-purple shadows began to stretch out 
from the mountains. A heavy cloud lay low in the 
west, behind which the sun dropped suddenly; and 



VICTOR EMANUEL'S GALLERY. 29 1 

twilight soon fell over hamlet and hill-side and silent 
ruins, and that day lay in the buried past, like the 
history of the scenes around us. This was the vesper 
hour, and from hill and vale the bells pealed forth a 
sad, earnest call. - The sounds went ringing abroad 
over the waters, and came echoing back in softened 
cadence. It touched us tenderly, like a last knell 
over departed pleasures. 

We rode from the boat to the station, seeing 
Como only by gas-light; and, the morning after our 
arrival at the pleasant city of Milan, we went out to 
the Gallery of Victor Emanuel — a beautiful glass- 
covered prome«.iade, lined on either side with fine 
shops. I was much impressed with the beauty of 
the ladies, and admired their becoming head-dress 
of lace veils, in place of stiff bonnets. The gentle- 
men were tall, well-dressed, and elegant in bearing. 
Crossing a square, I saw admiring groups around the 
recently erected statue of Leonardo da Vinci. In 
its impress, it comes near to Michael Angelo's 
*^ Moses." It has an air of colossal strength of 
character, a massive head, a long, flowing beard, 
and features that indicate high thought and an 
imperious will. 

Leonardo was not a native of Milan; but for 
some time was a member of the Court of the Duke 
of Ludovico, and at the Convent of the Madonna 
della Grazie he left his proudest work, *^The Last 
Supper." This painting is on a wall twenty-eight 
feet in width, and the figures are more than life-size. 



292 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

The time and place of the scene chosen is described 
in Matthew xxvi, 21, 22 : ^^ And as they did eat, he 
said, Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall 
betray me. And they were exceeding sorrowful, 
and began every one of them to say unto him. Lord, 
is it I?" The figures are skillfully grouped, and the 
expressions varied and wonderful; and although the 
picture is badly mutilated, it retains enough of 
Leonardo's characteristics to impress one with his 
wonderful power of portraying all phases of human 
passion. 

A certain writer says of Leonardo : 

'^He was the founder of the modern and perfect 
style of Italian art. Beyond all others, his labors 
contributed to that great transition by which nature 
became the language of art. 

*^The human face, that marvelous index of the 
soul, that register of the life and mirror of the pas- 
sions, was his especial, untiring study. This intense, 
microscopic scrutiny of moral expression in coun- 
tenance gave him at last power to paint *the mind's 
construction in the face,' with an intelligence and 
force that would have been pronounced impossible. 
The subtlest ether of the vital feeling that exhales 
from the features become fixed and visible beneath 
his pencil. His aim is not expression, which signal- 
izes passing emotion; but character, which forms 
the resultant of life's experience. Beneath his eye, 
the countenance became the soul's confessional, con- 
veying utterance from the pictured subject to the 



ART. 293 

picture-gazer. In. the power to effect such results, 
Leonardo stands supreme and wonderful." 

Engravings of Da Vinci's picture of ^^The Last 
Supper" are so numerous one need not define forms 
and positions. The color is so faded by dampness, 
and changed by restoration, one scarcely can get a 
just conception of its original excellence, but suffi- 
cient to impress us with the genius of Leonardo da 
Vinci, who, we remember, was born at Vinci, near 
Florence, in 145 2,. and flourished in an age made 
brilHant by the contemporaneous genius of Michael 
Angelo, Correggio, Giorgione, and Titian. Those were 
times ripe for great results, and the development of 
the spirit of those times was through such favorably 
endowed individuals. Mrs. Jameson says : * ' We 
often hear, in these days, of the ' spirit of the age / 
but in that wonderful age flourished three mighty 
spirits, who, by a spirit of investigation, sought the 
depths of all truths, such as led to the Reformation; 
and daring adventure, which led in search of new 
worlds, beyond the eastern and western oceans; and 
the spirit of art, through which men soared into the 
* seventh heaven of invention.'" ^'Leonardo da 
Vinci seems to present in his own person a resume 
of all the characteristics in the age in which he 
lived, — a miracle of the age of miracles." Italy is 
proud of him; 'but he belongs to the world, as do all 
master-spirits. 

Passing from this artist's marble form, we hastened 
to that most renowned artistic wonder, the Milan 



294 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

Cathedral. I acknowledge the first impression of the' 
exterior is disappointing. The facade and the doors 
are not at all imposing; and the whole building 
seems low and heavy, lacking the airy upward ex- 
pression of the pure Gothic. The walls are of stat- 
uary marble, variously colored by time and climate. 
Step within. One is awed by its impressive grandeur 
and its harmony of design. It blooms with a grace 
and beauty that stirs the heart and the spiritual na- 
ture deeply. The extent and the height; the beau- 
tiful, star-studded vaulting ; the great pillars crowned 
with statues; the conscientious finish given to every 
part, — has in it a religious element that must find a 
response in any appreciative beholder. The original 
grand design, I am sorry to say, is somewhat marred 
by the introduction of pictures and tawdry ornaments 
the bad taste of the present day permits. 

However, it is upon the top, I think, "one most 
feels the strange revelation of this great art-wonder. 
The niches and nooks and pinnacles bear their 
armies of statues, numbered by thousands. Canova, 
and a host of distinguished artists, have here wrought 
out their fine conceptions, and produced forms pos- 
sessing all the higher attributes of purity, truth, 
courage, and nobiHty of exalted natures. Much of 
the marble has a pink flesh-tinge, and it wants but a 
touch of the imagination to feel one's self surrounded 
by a glorified humanity. 

Looking from the highest tower, below and around 
lies the beautiful city of Milan, with its palaces, 



MILAN. 295 

churches, and many objects of interest and art. 
Away to the east is a soft, green landscape; and we 
know that far beyond it lies the City of the Sea, and 
St. Mark's. Though far beyond mortal ken, yet, 
under the blue skies and through the transparent air, 
one feels he can almost grasp the splendid vision. 
To the south, across the rivers, over the tgwns, and 
beyond the vast plain, the horizon is shut in by the 
deep violet line of the Appenines. To the north, 
reposing in solemn, stately grandeur, lies the great 
Alpine ridge — powerful, cold, silent. A stupendous 
chain of snowy pinnacles runs above and beyond 
the purple tops, that looks like a ^^ great highway of 
holiness." No spot on which I ever stood so filled 
me with an overpowering sense of the grand in 
nature and the wonderful in art. It was full of an 
inspiring influence, rousing all the dormant faculties 
of the soul, expanding and enlarging, and in some 
sense satisfying, one's ever immortal longings, by the 
sublime in nature and the beautiful in art. The 
ocean, the Alps, the cathedrals, touch me with an 
influence that nothing else can approximate. Through 
them, the mind runs, outward and upward, along 
the viewless chain of spiritual sympathies, until it 
touches the Infinite. One could scarce feel other- 
wise than devotional on such a spot. And what a 
privilege it would be to have such a retreat, where 
one might go to shake off the fetters of sin, which 
the cares and follies of life too often wind about us! 
We found the city of Milan very inviting for a 



296 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

prolonged stay. We sought the Brava Gallery with 
eagerness, if only to see Raphael's '^Spozalizio/' 
and saw a face full of tender sweetness and grace. 
Beyond this picture, there is little I recall with any 
especial pleasure. 

The magnificent triumphal arch, at the terminus 
of the Simplon Road, is an art-object too faithfully 
photographed on my mind to ever grow dim. 

It was early morning when we left Milan for 
Turin, and we were well out on the broad plain by 
daylight. The sun was heralded by long streams of 
golden light, that shot up heavenward from behind 
the great Alpine barricade; and nowhere, save from 
the top of Milan Cathedral, have I seen so impressive 
a view. As the sunlight poured over the hazy ridge, 
it became, in fancy, a great luminous pathway, that, 
like Jacob's vision, reached to heaven, on which 
angels might ascend and descend. 

From the great chain, several spurs run down into 
the low flat country through which, we were passing. 
There was a June freshness in the fields ; but the late 
Autumn had tinged some of the vine-leaves with 
red, and others with yellow. The laurel-hedges were 
dressed in their glossy green leaves, and the pines 
and cypresses held their verdant heads erect, while 
garlands of vine-leaves hung on the broken walls. 

The laborers were putting in their Fall crops, 
plowing with oxen of the dirty drab color pecuHar 
to Italy; and their plows, I am sure, were of a pat- 
tern that must have been used anterior to the days 



TURIN. 297 

of Cincinnatus. The Italians, m their works and 
ways, remind one of overgrown, spoiled children, 
reared in luxury, and then left to an inheritance of 
poverty. If they can- get half a shirt, a pair of 
threadbare, patched pants, and an old mantle, they 
walk with the satisfied, lofty air of born aristocrats, 
quite contented with past achievements and past 
glories. They can live on the simplest diet, sleep in 
the open air, and revel in art, in music, and the 
beauties of nature. We, with our frugal and indus- 
trious and progressive ideas, can scarcely comprehend 
how such a life can bring so much of satisfaction and 
happiness as is apparently theirs. 

Turin has, like all Italian cities, its palaces and 
art-treasures, which we did not linger to examine. 
It lies on the bosom of a broad, fertile plain. Little 
towns are scattered about it ; long white roads run 
out from it, and through the country, lined on either 
side by tall Lombardy poplars. Huge clumps of 
sycamores, with their white bodies and limbs, and 
luxuriant vines and chestnut-trees, are the marked 
features of this flat country. 

Going toward Mont Cenis, our route presented 
much of interest, — dilapidated towns, hills, and plains; 
and beyond, a broken range of mountains. Our 
ascent up Mont Cenis was long and gradual, and the 
views constantly changing and expanding as we went 
upward. The road wound about in gentle curves, 
shot through tunnels and came out again, where, on 
one side, the mountain rose above us; a tremendous 



298 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

precipice beneath, on the opposite side. Thus we 
went up and on, until we reached a height of two * 
thousand five hundred feet; then we entered the 
great tunnel, which is eight miles in extent. At the 
center of this we reached an elevation of three thou- 
sand five hundred feet; then commenced a rapid 
descent. Emerging from this midnight darkness and 
oppressive atmosphere, we hurried downward amidst 
varying scenes of a wondrously impressive character. 
But most wonderful was the road, with its tunnels, 
its walled embankments, its skillfully managed grades, 
and massive bridges crossing ravines. Around and 
along were trees, vines, and of rocks a chaotic mass, 
grassy slopes, and snow-peaks. At the foot of the 
mountain are some of the most picturesque scenes in 
France. 



PARIS. 299 



dllkptef XXVIII. 

PARIS — FIRST AND SECOND VISIT — IMPRESSIONS — PEOPLE — ^ART — 
ART THOUGHTS— THE LOUVRE— CHURCHES— THE MADELEINE — 
A FUNERAL — THE PANTHEON — ST. ETIENNE DU MONT — ST. 
CHAPELLE — ST. GERMAIN DE PRES — OLD FRESCOS. 

OUR first visit to Paris was some years ago, dur- 
ing the time of the Exposition, when it was 
dressed for the great occasion with flowers, banners, 
and profuse decorations; when the imperial state car- 
riages rolled through the streets, and high dignitaries 
from many lands added their presence to the gorgeous 
and bewildering scene. 

Soon after this came that wretched war, accounts 
of which marred our visions of the City Beautiful; 
and we had learned to think of it as still clothed with 
the ashes of humility, and mourning weeds still hang- 
ing about her. 

In making our recent visit, we entered the city at 
night, and early the following morning started out to 
look after some of the '^old landmarks.'' We had 
gone but a very short way, when we came to the 
^'Nouvel Opera," that marvel of architectural ele- 
gance. Its white marble facade, with its niches and 
splendid bass-relief figures, bore not a stain of Prussian 



300 _ SCENES IN EUROPE. 

cannon-smoke, and the great, gilded ornaments on the 
top of the building shone in the morning sunlight with 
undimned luster. We looked elsewhere; the Caen- 
stone and stucco buildings had the warm, bright, 
cheerful look we so well remembered; and in our 
minds Paris, phoenix-like, had arisen from her ashes. 

We found the streets crowded, as of old, with 
well-dressed, sprightly, happy-looking people, tripping 
lightly along, bearing no traces of even past sorrow, 
until we began to think the recital of war and riots 
had been a delusion. However, as we turned down 
through Place Vend6me, and saw only the base of 
the once proud monument standing, we found 
traces of the reality; but marks of the fierce siege 
and troublous times are very few. 

It seems almost superfluous to attempt giving any 
description of Paris, since it has come to be so famil- 
iar a theme; and even those who have not visited the 
gay capital have doubtless formed quite correct con- 
ceptions of its palaces, churches, monuments, mag- 
nificent boulevards, and numerous little parks that 
link together, like chains, the " different portions of 
the city. 

As for ourselves, we confess fancy had never 
painted for us any street so beautiful as the Champs 
Elys6es, with its broad drives, its double rows of 
walks so broad and nicely shaded with double rows 
of trees, under which are seats for the accommoda- 
tion of the endless pleasure-loving throng. 

It is an interesting and animating employment to 



PARIS LIFE. 301 

sit and watch this moving spectacle, and study the 
characteristic dress, features, and manners of the 
people from various lands, each bearing such strong 
marks of their nationalities. 

In regard to our country-women, we conclude they 
are the most beautiful, and even not less graceful 
than the French; but they overdress, especially for 
the street. The elegant French ladies dress more 
simply and economically, and have the nice and for- 
tunate faculty of giving more the impression of the 
personelle than of the outward adornings. This is a 
fine art, well worth cultivating. 

The boulevards and little parks are a very paradise 
for children, who, with hoops and balls and skipping- 
ropes, frolic all day in the open air, attended always 
by nurses. This latter class, in their frilled caps or 
fantastic head-gear and peasant dress of the Swiss or 
Germans, help to make up the variety of the strange 
spectacle. Then, too, come decorated officers in full 
uniform, common soldiers, sergents de ville, or patrol- 
men, in cocked hats and dress coats with broad skirts. 

We should not omit to mention the large show of 
dogs of different breeds, pet poodles predominating,' 
which are led by, or lead, many ladies out; a fashion 
so silly we at once take it as a significant index of 
the caliber of the individual thus represented. 

We wandered in the crowd among the flowers and 
fountains, visited the numerous side-shows of ^ ^ Mari- 
onettes,'' ^' Punch and Judy," slightly more entertain- 
ing than the dog-shows; and then turned to the long 



302 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

line of equipages filing up and down, to and from, 
the Triumphal Arch. 

Probably most persons are aware that the Place 
da la Concord, with its magnificent monuments and 
its old Egyptian obelisk, is a connecting link between 
the Champs Elys^es and the woods of the Tuileries. 
Opposite the obelisk, opens through the woods a broad 
avenue, leading up to the Royal Palace. Around this 
now gloomy ruin the flowers still bloom, and an army 
of beautiful marble' statues stand guard, as in the 
palmiest days of the imperial reign. 

Back and beyond the Palace of the Tuileries, cov- 
ering several acres, come the courts and successive 
art-palaces that constitute the Louvre. On one side 
of all these runs that splendid street, Rue de Rivoli, 
with its long line of arcades and beautiful shops. 
On the other side of the Louvre runs the Seine, 
spanned by many bridges, each in its way a fine 
architectural ornament. Following on up Rue de 
Rivoli, one comes to Place de la Bastile, of wicked 
memory. A little way from this, just across the 
Seine, is the old Conciergerie, from which many and 
many a load of doomed victims of the Reign of Ter- 
ror emerged to go to execution. Near at hand stands 
the architectural wonder of by-gone ages, the Church 
of Notre Dame. Well, let one wander where they 
will, some new object of beauty and interest meets 
them at every turn. Then, too, Paris is nearly always 
flooded with such a gush of brilliant sunshine as 
seems to come nowhere else, and has long given 



FRENCH SOCIETY. 3O3 

to that favored land the well-deserved title of ^* Sunny 
France." 

The Parisians, like all people, become infected by 
the atmosphere in which they live. They walk with 
an elastic tread; joy effervesces in their hearts, and bub- 
bles over in their faces; existence seems a delight. 
The Englishman, sitting two-thirds of the year in fog 
and smoke, looks at the Frenchmen, and, in his usu- 
ally self-complacent manner, pronounces them '^a 
volatile race,'' ^^ corrupt and unstable." Our experi- 
ence would lead us to say they are buoyant, spark- 
ling, bright, and joyous: with keen wit, full apprecia- 
tion of the pleasures of life, and a desire to get a 
full measure of happiness. It seems their faults lie 
very much on the surface. We like their quick and 
tender sensibilities, their warmth and kindness of 
heart, their extreme affability, and their self-sacrificing 
politeness. 

The world calls them immoral. If, in reality, they 
are worse than other nations, the fact was not appar- 
ent to our eyes. Good order, neatness, and aston- 
ishing industry seemed to characterize a very large 
proportion of the people. Drunkenness is punished 
by law; and during a long sojourn we saw far fewer 
instances of extreme degradation than in any other 
city we have ever tarried in. 

The unfortunate victims of a bad political and ec- 
clesiastical rule, they have sometimes developed sad 
phases of society. In truth, constituted as they are, 
they have given us historical pictures whose lights 



304 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

are intensely strong, and whose dark shades are 
steeped in gloomiest dyes. And one can not but 
shudder at the frantic, unscrupulous butchery of 
the victims of some of their revolutions. But other 
nations less excitable have at times shown little less 
mercy. They are so kind, so courteous, and their 
manner so full of grace and gentle deference, it 
seems to carry with it the impress of one of the car- 
dinal Christian principles; namely, '^Let each esteem 
others better than themselves." How very much, 
after all, do these things have to do with smoothing 
one's pathway over the rough road of life! — and most 
sincerely do I hope, in. this respect, both English and 
Americans may be close and true imitators. 

A stranger is scarcely set down in the city of 
Paris, ere they hurry off to the Louvre, as the point 
of first and highest interest; and yet it is probable the 
first visit of most Americans is one of disappointment 
To view the works of the old masters properly, one 
must not only have aesthetic taste and culture, but 
they must also be familiar with the lives and impell- 
ing powers of those who wrought, and the very 
spirit of the times in which they lived. 

An American sculptor with whom I talked — one 
who had been many years abroad — seemed to feel 
that no amount of culture at home could prepare an 
American to appreciate or judge properly of art in 
any department when first coming to Europe. He 
deems it essential that, by long study and association, 
one must be brought entirely under the influence 



ART TEIOUGHTS. 305 

of the antique, and become imbued with the spirit 
of those times when *'art was still religion." 

It is probably difficult for us fully to comprehend 
the singleness of purpose, the earnest faith, the sub- 
lime devotion, with which those early artists conse- 
crated all their powers and their lives to the accom- 
plishment of a fixed object. The material forms they 
have left us are the embodiment of their own soul- 
struggles; and the thoughts, feelings, and spirit of 
their age is shown in grand churches, magnificent mar- 
bles, arches, and statues, in pictured saints and Ma- 
donnas, around which are thrown the mystical atmos- 
phere of miracles, fables, and fiction. All such influ- 
ences are foreign to those under which we have been 
reared; in fact, every-where essentially different from 
the practical prose of the nineteenth century. 

We see here these unfoldings of latent principles 
and events taking on the form and coloring of our 
social, political, and religious atmosphere. Our 
country, and all pertaining to it, is on a grand scale; 
our institutions free, our religions generous, — all of 
which has a tendency to lessen our reverence for, 
and give us even little interest in, mythological gods 
and dead saints. The spirit of worship to-day is more 
for the living Christ; for developing in living men 
high moral and spiritual perfection, and thus gener- 
ally elevating the human race. 

In saying this, I abate not a particle of my love 
for true art, or the admiration I feel for the whole- 
souled devotion with which the old masters wrought, 

20 



306 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

in bringing forth such objects as they have for the 
dehght of the world. 

However, we know and feel, no matter how much 
art may polish and refine a people, its greatest object 
is defeated if it ministers to the eye and fancy alone. 
It must be based on truth and religion, and quickened 
by the Holy Spirit; it then, like an influence from 
higher spheres, exalts and ennobles both the artist 
and observer. Artists can paint nothing better than 
they see and feel ; and we see, even in the best pic- 
tures, only what our organism and culture fit us to 
comprehend. Therefore, we should not rest satisfied 
to look alone on the surface of forms, the mere visi- 
ble language of art, or seek merely the technical 
knowledge, easily understood in pictures and statues; 
but the poetry, the underlying emotions, the truth, 
and the religious basis. Could we be thus finely tem- 
pered, and link the art world with the spiritual, it 
would help us toward a higher plane of existence, and 
the true results of high art be attained. 

Among the pictures at the Louvre, much as any, 
comes under this specified kind the ^^ Immaculate 
Conception," by Murillo — such sweetness and purity, 
such womanly grace, beauty, and truth, and such 
angelic exaltation, as not only charms the eye and 
fancy; but it sends forth a subtile exhalation, sweet 
and delightful and refining, and thus answering the 
end of art. 

Among the Raphaels, to me the most pleasing is 
the '^Vierge au Ligne.'' It is clothed in a soft, 



PAINTINGS. 307 

celestial atmosphere, and breathes the very spirit of 
purity and peace. Raphael was ever reverent in feel- 
ing, and glowing in rich fancies; and, quivering with 
fine spiritual sensibilities, he evidently worked in the 
exercise of child-like faith. Others of his pictures at 
the Louvre have richer color; but none there, I 
think, have either the luster or the deep mellowness 
of tone that characterize his *' Repose in Egypt," 
that hangs in the Belvidere Gallery, in Vienna. 

Correggio's *^St. Catherine" is an ever-pleasing 
picture. Guido's ^* Christ Delivering the Keys to St. 
Peter" is to me very impressive. The figures are 
noble, the coloring gorgeous as imagination and rare 
pigments could make them. But they are harmonious, 
and one feels that Guido had in his nature a fine po- 
etical element; and most of his works are marked 
by pathos, tenderness of feeling, and always with 
devotion. 

Titian, as a colorist, has the intense depth and 
richness of the land from which he came; and his 
heads have the marks of fine and commanding intel- 
lect, deep passion, and something of sentiment; but 
his different works, like scores of others, it would be 
unsatisfactory to enumerate. 

Of Rembrandt's, I may be permitted to quote from 
a distinguised writer, who says, *^ Rembrandt was 
king of shadows," and ''a, poet;" and that ^^out of 
half-seen forms his imagination framed strange spells 
of elemental light and shade. Thence he brought 
his unearthly shadows, his dreamy splendors, his 



308 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

supernatural gleams; his genius, flashing and spark- 
ling with internal light; his lustrous gloom; his 
wicked, wizard-like heads — turbaned, wrinkled, 
scarred, and dusky — pale with forbidden studies, 
solemn with thoughtful pain, keen with the hun- 
ger of avarice, and furrowed with an eternity of 
years. '^ But it is vain to attempt to describe 
either the merits or demerits of but a very few in 
this vast collection, since describing pictures gen- 
erally gives little* satisfaction to those who have 
not seen them; and those who have, have brought 
away their own impressions, colored by their own 
aesthetic taste. 

In Paris, few things interested me more than the 
churches, old and new. Just across the square, be- 
yond the Louvre, I saw the Church of St. Germain 
TAuxerrois — which seems almost, to Protestant eyes, 
deserving of personal dislike, because of the con- 
spicuous part its old bell played on the night of the 
terrible massacre of St. Bartholomew. I tried to 
study out the designs of its faded frescos, that cover 
the front; but they seemed only to have a semi- 
barbarous signification. The interior, recently re- 
stored, is gorgeous in gold-leaf, fresh frescos, and 
stained glass. I w^anted to have placed conspicu- 
ously there the figure of Charity, that should repre- 
sent that *' charity without which we are nothing," 
^^that rejoiceth not in iniquity," belie veth all things, 
hopeth all things, endureth all things — charity that 
never faileth. 



THE MADELEINE. 309 

In the vicinity of our Paris home stood the 
Church of the Madeleine, of the Grecian order ; and, 
to my hking, one of the finest architectural orna- 
ments in the city. Every time I went near, I gazed 
with fresh delight on those great Corinthian columns, 
and walked about it, studying the statues that filled 
the many niches; and walked up to the magnificent 
bronze doors, that stood before me, thirty-two feet in 
height and sixteen in breadth; and there, in expressive 
alto-relievo figures, I could daily read the Ten Com- 
mandments, impressively given. 

The interior, consisting of one broad nave, adorned 
on the sides by fluted columns and fine marble 
groups, is very beautiful in its simplicity. The walls 
are of marble. About the choir, they are richly 
decorated with figures and arabesque on a gold 
ground. The approach to the altar is by several 
steps, between which, almost hovering over the con- 
gregation, stands an angelic marble group. The 
Virgin, in an attitude of rapture, is borne up, on 
either side, by the wings of angels. On each side 
of this group, on pedestals, are two other angels, in 
the attitude of prayer. The light comes only . from 
the cupolas, far above, and falls soft and effectively 
on the marbles. 

Passing this church one morning, I saw a hearse 
in front, trimmed in white, white horses attached, 
and a white curtain hanging over the entrance of the 
church. I knew, from the symbols, it was the funeral 
of a young lady, and I entered, to take a survey. 



3IO SCENES IN EUROPE. 

The catafalque in the center of the church was cov- 
ered with white broadcloth, trimmed with white silk 
fringe ; the church was beautifully adorned with white 
flowers, and the effect and idea were also beautiful. 
I was pleasantly impressed with the universal custom 
of paying respectful deference to the dead. When 
a curtain is hung in front of a house it indicates a 
death, and its color and trimmings indicate the age 
and sex. Gentlemen passing raise their hats; and, 
in meeting a funeral procession, they keep the hats 
off until the procession passes. This we think far 
better than the cold, indifferent stare mostly given, 
on such occasions, in other countries, where even a 
better faith prevails. 

Among the places for flower-sales in the city, the 
most attractive we found was by the side of the 
Madeleine. There, all the year round, on Tuesday 
and Friday, one may regale themselves with choice 
and cheap flowers; but we found they had falling 
prices, and the bartering does take so much from 
one's pleasure. But the flowers would put one in 
good-humor, even under imposition. 

Christmas is the great market-time for venders of 
flowers and all other trinkets; and it was a strange 
sight to see the erection of innumerable booths along 
some of the finest streets and boulevards. Some 
were of tent-cloth, and some of rough boards. Toys 
and trinkets, excelling any thing we had ever dreamed 
of, were not only displayed, but forced upon one. 
Little children, and even grown-up children, were 



CHRISTMAS IN PARIS. 3 II 

tempted out of all their available cash, and then 
they would sigh for more. 

On Christmas-day, we went to the Church of St. 
Roque — one of the old landmarks in history, now 
celebrated for fine music and great wealth. The 
Christmas ceremonies were very imposing to plain 
Protestant eyes. All along the walls were pictures, 
monuments, tablets, statues; and, on all sides, uni- 
versal decorations of wreaths, evergreens, and flow- 
ers. Candles were burning on the altars, and wax- 
tapers were lighted for those who would give a few 
sous, and thus secure prayers for some dead friend. 
The priests were, for the occasion, dressed in gor- 
geous vestments, richly embroidered, and set with 
gems. Boys in white swung the incense-burners be- 
fore the altar, marching out and in. By turns, the 
heavy notes of the organ rolled through the church, 
and was responded to by priests and people; then 
prayers, and silence for a brief space; then again all 
the church was flooded with music by a full band. 
The orchestral performance was led by Strauss, who 
chanced to be in the city. The whole scene was 
exciting and bewildering,' rather than to me devo- 
tional ; but most of the congregation seemed intensely 
absorbed in the ceremonies. In truth, generally, 
there was, among the Romish churches I visited, an 
earnest attention, as if all absorbed in the one purpose 
of worship. 

Another commendable feature was the plainness," 
the perfect simpUcity, in dress for church. This was 



312 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

true of the wealthiest and most styhsh, and seldom 
was any thing but plain black seen. To this there 
was a painful contrast at the American chapel, where 
dress-hats, rich colored silks or elaborately trimmed 
black ones, velvets, and handsome laces, were as 
profuse as at some fashionable reception in Fifth 
Avenue, New York. We are sorry for this;, because, 
of all ladies, we most admire Americans. They are 
graceful, often beautiful, intellectual, and show by 
look and manner so much character. They do not 
need all this adorning, and especially for church, 
where the mind should not be distracted by such a 
show of the ^ latest fashions." This same fault ap- 
plies equally well to most American churches, and 
by its influence keeps many a poor soul away from 
the helping influence of the Gospel. 

The Pantheon, the largest church in Paris, is of 
comparatively modern date. The story goes, that on 
that spot Clovis, at the solicitation of his queen, St. 
Genevieve, founded a church to the aposdes St. Peter 
and St. Paul. St. Genevieve was buried on that spot 
in 512. The church was dedicated to her, and she 
has ever since been the patron saint of Paris; and, 
during one week, every year, imposing ceremonies 
are observed in memory of St. Genevieve, and the 
right transept of the Pantheon is then made gorgeous 
with decorations, banners, and so on. 

A description of the Pantheon would not be satis- 
factory; but a few words and figures may not be 
amiss. The form is nearly a Greek cross: length, 



THE PANTHEON. 313 

three hundred and two feet; and breadth, two hun- 
hundred and fifty-five. From the center of the cross 
rises a dome two hundred and sixty-eight feet from 
the pavement. The arched ceilings are richly sculp- 
tured, and the nave is adorned by frescos of 
Michael Angelo and Raphael, copied from the 
Vatican. There are three altars in the choir and 
transept, rich in gilt and sculpture. Marat and 
Mirabeau were buried here; but afterward, by order, 
removed. The entrance to this church is very im- 
posing. Eleven great solid steps run across the 
front; and above these stand six fluted Corinthian 
columns, sixty feet in height and six feet in diam- 
eter, and back of these six more. * The pediment 
contains a large number of figures in relief. A 
figure of France, fifteen feet high, forms the center 
of the group, and is surrounded by illustrious men — 
among them Lafayette, Carnot, Fenelon, Napoleon, 
Rousseau, Voltaire, and many others. 

Quite near the Pantheon stands a very unique 
church, built in 1121. Several additions have given 
an incongruous mixture to the style of architecture; 
but it is said to be a favorite resort for artists, as it 
is quite filled with interesting objects. The aisles 
and the nave are alike very high. The choir is sep- 
arated from the nave by a splendid screen, of very 
elaborate workmanship; and in front of this, winding 
about pillars, run two spiral staircases, of exquisite 
lightness and beauty. Finely wrought screens, 
adorned with figures, separate the aisles from the 



314 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

nave. The pulpit is supported by a figure of Sam- 
son, and ornamented by beautiful statuettes. Within 
one of the chapels is the gilded tomb of St. Gen- 
evieve, where a lamp is kept perpetually burning. 
The church is rich in works of art; and many dis- 
tinguished persons have been buried in this Church 
of St. Etienne du Mont — among them, Pascal, 
Racine, and Rollin. 

St. Eustache and St. Sulpice are grand and inter- 
esting. Notre Dame is quite a familiar subject; too 
well known to need a word. St. Chapelle is a like 
small casket of rare and precious gems, and piously 
built, it is said, for the purpose of suitably depos- 
iting the sacred relics, — a piece of the true cross, 
and the crown of thorns. 

One more church of great interest I must speak 
of, — St. Germain de Pres, relic of a monastic estab- 
lishment, founded in 551. ^^The church was richly 
endowed, celebrated for its decorations, and called 
' The Golden Basilica.' In 861, the Normans 
nearly destroyed it. In 991, it was rebuilt, and 
the square tower that surmounts the porch dates 
from that time." 

The interior is cruciform, with a circular choir, 
around which are chapels containing rich and cu- 
rious monuments. The nave is flanked with plain 
aisles; the pillars forming the piers are heavily 
ornamented with strange devices, richly gilded ; the 
vaulting of the nave and aisles is painted in cobalt, 
richly gemmed with golden stars; and the walls 



ST. GERMAIN DE PRES. 315 

are covered with frescos in soft shades, illustrating 
ecclesiastical subjects and stories. In one of the 
chapels, black marble slabs mark the tombs of 
Mabillon and Descartes. 



3l6 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikftef XXIX. 

WANDERINGS ABOUT PARIS — LUXEMBOURG — PICTURES — HOTEL 
DES INVALIDES — MALMAISON — ^JOSEPHINE — PALACE OF VER- 
SAILLES — PICTURES— THE GRAND TRIANON — LITTLE TRI- 
ANON — MARIE ANTOINETTE. 

ONE of our favorite rambles in Paris was through 
the old part of the city, that leads to the Lux- 
embourg Palace; and I remember especially the first. 
It was a cool, clear morning, and the sun was shin- 
ing brightly, as it nearly always does in Paris. We 
walked along under the arcades of Rue de Rivoli, 
for a time interested in the varied and attractive ob- 
jects that filled the shop-windows. Then we crossed 
the street, and passed close to the ruined Palace of 
the Tuileries. We saw no longer the mounted dra- 
goons, or the imperial flag flying from the tower, to 
indicate, as formerly, the emperor at home. Nothing 
is left now bat a monument of fallen greatness. In 
the shop-windows were seen photographs of the dead 
and dishonored emperor. 

In our wanderings we crossed the Seine, where 
the moving panorama is ever varied and full of in- 
terest. We strayed through the narrower streets of 
the old city; stopped at some of the numerous book- 



PARIS. 317 

stalls, where old books are sold for a song; but un- 
fortunately their moral tone and theological tenets 
were so greatly at variance with our established 
ideas, we cared not to buy even cheap things. 

However, we were tempted often and strongly 
by the ribbons, laces, beautiful fabrics, ready-made 
dresses and bonnets, with which the great windows 
of the magasins were filled. With what rare taste 
and elegance the French do every thing ! And then 
their quick perception of the fitness of things leads 
them to make every thing and place attractive, even 
down to the meat-markets, where the meat is so 
nicely trimmed with paper, and the counters arrayed 
with crocks of house-plants and bouquets. 

Twice on our way we passed houses where great 
black curtains were hung across the front. One was 
all black, indicating the death of an aged person; 
the other, for middle age, was black, trimmed with 
white. Each curtain is marked by a large letter, the 
first in the name of the deceased. No one in all the 
passing throng passed indifferently, and every man 
raised his hat en passant. 

Among other things we learned was a trick the 
Parisians had of alluring English and Americans, by 
putting a sign in the window saying, ''' Ici on parle 
Anglais. ^^ When we went in, and inquired for the 
person or persons who could speak English, they un- 
fortunately had just gone out; and then we were 
sore beset to buy. Goods were so forced upon us 
that it required much courage to refuse, and much 



3l8 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

stratagem to be able to make a retreat without emp- 
tying our purses. 

About one mile from the Seine, we entered the 
spacious grounds that encircle the Luxembourg Pal- 
ace, and sat down to rest under the trees, listening 
to the song of the birds and the dash of the spark- 
ling fountains, which was not quite drowned by the 
city's roar. The grounds were thickly peopled with 
statues, some of rare merit. Near us was a large, 
antiquated grotto, where marble lovers sat embow- 
ered under pendent banners of ivy. In front of 
this was a fountain and pool of water. Along on 
either side ran flourishing vines of ivy, trained in 
graceful festoons; and shrubbery and flowers in 
abundance add much to the external charm. Yet, 
after all, the historical reminiscence gives the absorb- 
ing interest to the spot. The home of Marie de 
Medici has an atmosphere tinged by memories out- 
vying, in striking colors, the present aspect of the 
place. On a visit made some years since, we were 
permitted to view the rooms of the noted regent; 
but now the State Senate having their sittings in the 
palace, from that portion visitors are excluded. 

We entered the apartments allotted to statuary, 
where many choice works are robbed of half their 
charm by being so crowed in with others. It seems 
almost like a warehouse. Going up two flights of 
stairs, we found ample space had been given to the 
picture-galleries. As we entered, at our right was a 
very marked picture, entitled ^'Raphael at the Vati- 



LUXEMBOURG PALACE. 319 

can;" but the picture that most rivets the attention, 
and most deeply stirs the heart, is a large one in the 
center of this room — a scene in the Conciergerie, 
^'Reading the List of the Condemned," painted by 
Muller. In truthfulness, it seems like a photograph 
of the real scene; in effect, the figures seem instinct 
with intense living emotion; and on the fifty separate 
forms and faces are written, in pathetic characters, the 
marks of suffering through which they have passed. 
The lights and shadows are effectively managed, and 
the coloring in complete harmony with the scene. 
Through the open door, in the central background, is 
just visible the cart in which some of the despairing 
victims are just starting for the guillotine. 

To speak of the numerous pictures of interest is 
quite impossible. Suffice that they give one hour of 
enjoyment. There is Horace Vernet, with his prodi- 
gality of figures and abounding life; and Delacroix, 
in whose historical pictures are seen pure poetical 
sentiment; and Gerome, with his masterly execution 
and fine finish; Prudhon, with his high lights and 
deep shadows; Ary Scheffer, with his floating, airy 
figures; then the materialistic Troyon, with his cattle 
and peasants, who shows us real bone and muscle, 
flesh and blood. Rosa Bonheur has a picture of cat- 
tle plowing; but to us they seemed patient, spiritless 
animals, plodding through furrows of exaggerated 
depth. 

To me, one of the sweetest pictures there is a 
Madonna, by Landelle. The face has charming pur- 



320 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

rity, tenderness, and delicacy; but not at the expense 
of strength of character. The expression is deeply 
devotional, and although it savors of womanly in- 
stincts, yet seems more of heaven than earth. 

Coming out from the Luxembourg, we called a 
hack, receiving as usual a card with printed list of 
prices and number of the hack — a most admirable ar- 
rangement to secure passengers from imposition, and 
the sure return of any article left by chance in a car- 
riage. We passed along through the crooked streets of 
the old city, and drove up to the grounds of Hotel des 
Invalides, going first through a portion of that palace- 
like home for wounded and aged soldiers. They 
were dressed in long blue frock-coats and cocked 
hats. This is a pleasant, restful spot, in which to sit 
down and dream of past achievements. Judging 
from their vapid faces, they do not rise to the dignity 
of thought, and do little more than dream. 

At this place, as we are told, provision is made 
for six thousand soldiers. The building runs around 
a large court. The facade of the front of the build- 
ing is six hundred feet in length. Back of the court 
stands the great church, and adjoining this, the en- 
trance being from the opposite side. Hotel des In- 
valides, under whose magnificent gilded dome lie the 
ashes of Napoleon — according to his expressed wish — 
among the soldiers, on the banks of the Seine, and 
in the midst of the French people, whom he pro- 
fessedly loved; but he loved ambition and fame better, 
However, his tomb is literally shrouded with glory. 



TOMB OF NAPOLEON. 32 I 

The design and ornamentation of this, though so com- 
plete and perfect, is almost lost in the absorbing 
interest of the two focal points. 

As one enters, straight in front, under the splen- 
did dome, stands a circular railing. Looking over it 
you see a cheerful crypt and porphyry tomb, of ele- 
gant simplicity, and marked by the simple letter N. 
Marble figures stand around, between which hang 
many tattered flags. In the mosaic floor are written 
in marble the names of famous battles, and around 
this runs a green laurel wreath. The suggestions 
are endless. 

Just beyond the tomb, and directly opposite the 
entrance, stands the tomb and monument of St. 
Louis, of elaborate workmanship. At the corners 
rise four spotted, twisted columns, that support a 
canopy of gold. In front is an image of the Savior, 
and a golden cross. A semicircular range of win- 
dows, filled with rich yellow stained glass, lets in a 
continued stream of glowing sunshine, however gray 
may be the sky without; and going in on a rainy day 
the effect was startling. 

On either side of the entrance are the tombs of 
other members of the Bonaparte family. The last 
time I was there, the great organ in the adjoining 
church flooded all the place with music, as the win- 
dows did with sunshine. One could desire no more 
cheerful spot wherein to lie down for a last sleep. 

A plainer and gloomier, but not less interesting 
spot/ we visited next, was Rueil, some eight miles 

21 



322 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

from Paris, where, at the old church, is the tomb of 
the divorced Empress Josephine, and also that of 
Queen Hortense. 

Surmounting the tomb of Josephine is a finely 
chiseled statue, in kneeling posture, with clasped 
hands, and face partially raised, but turned a little 
one side. Judging from her portraits, the likeness 
must be a correct one; and, with the evident strength 
of character, there is such a sweetness that recalls 
the appellation Napoleon once gave her, — '^The angel 
of my happiness." 

Half a mile or more out from Rueil, through an 
avenue of large trees, we came to Malmaison, an 
architecturally ugly palace, running on three sides of 
a court, and standing in the borders of fine old 
woods. The time-stained building, the tall chimneys 
and pyramidal roof, present an uncomely appearance ; 
but around the whole there hangs a mournful and 
romantic interest: because few persons in history by 
their high moral excellence, sad destiny, and heroic 
sufferings, more strongly appeal to our emotional 
natures, or call forth from us more genuine admira- 
tion than the unfortunate empress. 

Her wonderful endowments grow upon us as we 
study them more, seeing in her the power behind Napo- 
leon, guiding by her judicious counsel and foresight; 
and, as he said, '^ While I win battles, Josephine wins 
hearts." Aside, however, from diplomatic agency in 
building and increasing Napoleon's popularity and 
power, her genial and elegant bearing we so • much 



VERSAILLES. 323 

admire, her pure womanly attributes, her tenderness 
of heart, her deHcacy of feeUng, her purity, simpUc- 
ity of nature, that reveled in companionship with 
flowers, between which and her heart there seemed to 
exist a mysterious affinity, — these proved a balm to 
some of her suffering moments. 

We wandered through those desolate apartments 
v/here Josephine saw some of her happiest hours; 
but where the sun of her life went out in darkness. 
Sad as this place is by association, it was by the late 
war stripped of every vestige of cheerfulness. Win- 
dows, walls, and mirrors were shivered by shot and 
shell. Even this desolation was enhanced, on the 
day of our visit, by somber skies and frequent showers. 
The Autumn foliage was drooping with rain-drops, 
and the wind was singing a funeral dirge among 
the trees. 

Our next visit was to Versailles, which, as a school 
of history and art, is better than the reading of many 
books. Here is a palace of more wonderful extent 
and decorations than I think the most visionary ever 
conceived, and I would not dare write the fabulous 
sums said to have been expended, even in its internal 
decorations. All that art, gold, gilding, and frescos 
could do to beautify, has been lavishly expended. 

Think of going up those great, broad, marble 
stairs, and starting on a tour through the long suits 
of two hundred spacious apartments. There are pic- 
tures to the right of you, pictures to the left of you, 
pictures overhead, statues interspersed, and whole 



324 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

rooms of statues by themselves. The historical pic- 
tures are full of blood and carnage; and whatever the 
merits of the artists, and whatever their skill in show- 
ing picturesquely the glory or the horrors of war, I do 
not enjoy them. I confess, however, I did yield a 
small tribute of admiration to the great war heroine, 
Joan of Arc; for the artist made even the canvas 
glow with a look of divine inspiration. 

Among the historical pictures, one of the most 
pleasing is that by David, ^^The Crowning of Napo- 
leon.^' The assemblage is in Notre Dame. In the 
center of the picture is Napoleon, in coronation robes, 
and surrounded by bishops and cardinals in gor- 
geous apparal. Josephine is dressed in white satin, 
with court-train of red velvet lined with ermine. 
She is bending her beautiful head to receive the 
crown, and behind her are grouped the elegantly 
dressed court ladies. The sad picture of the close 
of her reign w^as fresh in my mind. 

The gallery of the portraits of the Bonaparte fam- 
ily was full of interest, and the artistic merit of a 
high order. 

There' was, among the numerous portraits of dis- 
tinguished persons, a very fine one of Marie Antoi- 
nette surrounded by her children. She looks young 
and beautiful, and her scarlet velvet robe lies in 
graceful folds, and is the most natural representation 
of real velvet possible. 

In this gallery were several familiar American 
portraits, such as AVebster, Clay, and others; but who 



VERSAILLES. 325 

can tell, or who recall, but a few of all the things 
seen, after traveling through three miles and a half 
of palace apartments — art and history crowded to- 
gether? And weary with thinking, weary with walk- 
ing, we came down again over broad stairs, through 
a grand hall, and out into a square surrounded on 
three sides by the palace; a fourth opening toward 
the plebeian town. Towering marble statues stood in 
stern state. Along each side soldiers and policemen 
walked about the place, just enough to break the 
solitude. We went to the front of the palace, across 
which extends a broad, semi-circular terrace, and 
down this go several steps leading to another and a 
broader terrace. And from this opens out majestic 
avenues and walks, that run in all directions. Shrubs 
and flowers from all climes are profusely scattered 
abcut, and statues by regiments; and though many Win- 
ter storms have stained them, they still have power, 
grace, and beauty to enrich this wonderfully charm- 
ing scene. From the high ground on which the pal- 
ace stands, one can look miles away through the 
broad avenues, over a portion of the sixty miles that 
was adorned and beautified by artificial rivers and 
lakes and parks. 

Leaving the immediate vicinity of the palace, with 
its luxurious ornamentation, and passing out of the 
groves and over the lawns, in a secluded nook, a mile 
away, stands the Grand Trianon. This is kept, like 
Versailles, to show its former splendor, and contain- 
ing very much that is rare and interesting ; but beyond, 



326 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

and back of this, stands the deserted Petite Trianon, 
with its Swiss cottage-Hke appendages. 

While standing in the seclusion and silence of 
that spot, how rapidly and painfully the mind runs 
over the changing events in the history of Marie An- 
toinette! How the daughter of the still prouder 
house of Austria, coming to France as the beautiful 
bride, and receiving the homage of all hearts — ac- 
cepted as queen of the nation, queen of fashion, and 
queen of beauty in the brilliant court of Louis XVI — 
at length her eye grew weary of gilded magnifi- 
cence, and the burden of court etiquette pressed 
heavily upon her. She asked the king for a simple 
home among the woods and pasture-lands, where in 
imaginary freedom, she might be a simple rustic, 
lying in the sunshine of fields, or playing childish 
games in the wood. In her innocent simplicity, she 
shocked all French ideas of regal dignity, and she 
soon learned that, though ^'a cat may look at a 
queen," a queen may not be permitted to play '^poor 
pussy wants a corner." She is a public character, and 
belongs to the State ; she must act always as a queen, 
and not as a woman. 

But Antoinette had now passed the ^^ Summers of 
her glory." She was in the descending scale; and 
soon the French people gave her a nook all too se- 
cluded, in the dark prison of the Conciergerie. And 
what a sad picture have we of her as she was led 
from her prison-cell, dressed in a coarse black robe, 
with bare feet, her golden hair, now turned white, 



MARIE ANTOINETTE. 327 

falling about her shoulders and about her pale, sad 
face; riding in the executioner's cart through the 
streets, amid jeers and insults! Her head is laid 
upon the fatal block, and falls, a pitiful sight. And 
thus endeth the life of a queen. 



^28 SCENES IN EUROPE. 



dlikj)tef XXX. 



THE GOBELIN TAPESTRY — THE MANNER OF MAKING — HOTEL 
CLUNY — HALLES CENTRAL — PERE LA CHAISE — GLOOMY 
IMPRESSIONS — ST. DENIS — SUGGESTIONS — MONUMENTS — 
REFLECTIONS. 

HAVING all our lives read of tapestried walls, 
and in time come to see them, old and worm- 
eaten, as well as fresh and rich, covering sometimes 
whole sides of palace-saloons, our curiosity was stim- 
ulated afresh to see the making of these wondrous 
fabrics. According to custom, we applied to some 
high official, obtained a pass, and, taking a carriage, 
drove a long way through to us an unknown portion 
of Paris, to the manufactory. 

We entered, first, one of the carpet-rooms, and 
saw that every stitch is put in by hand, a stitch at 
a time; then cut, and skillfully trimmed with scissors. 
Many men work many years on one carpet, to spread 
on the floor for princely feet. We were told six 
hundred men are employed in this department, at a 
salary of five hundred dollars a year. 

From this department we went to rooms where 
we saw the bright materials being wrought into por- 
traits, in colors unattainable by oils. Some pictures 



HOTEL CLUNY. 329 

of the old masters were being copied, with a perfec- 
tion, deHcacy, and richness that quite enchanted us. 

The picture before copying was placed in front 
and above the artist. Before him, on a large screen, 
were stretched the threads of warp, the box of 
worsteds by the side of the workman; the colors, 
wound upon quills, hung each by its thread. The 
workman, taking one of these in his hand, drew 
apart a few threads of warp, passed the quill through, 
and pressed down the stitches with the sharp point 
of the quill. In front walks a general inspector and 
artist, who is quick to see any possible error. It 
seemed to us a painfully tedious work for a man of 
skill and ability, and such only can do it. Well, so 
it is : one-half the world must wear out their lives to 
make gilded homes for the other half. 

Another place that interested us greatly was Hotel 
Cluny. This, more than any other place, we found 
rich in antiquities, that seemed to have been brought 
from all lands. Italy and Switzerland have con- 
tributed large stores of wood-carvings — curious, gro- 
tesque, as well as beautiful — carved mantels, cabinets, 
clocks, chairs, chests, and so on. Holland seemed 
more generous still; for among other things were 
those enormous fire-places and tall mantels, entire, 
filled in with those little square blocks of porcelain 
pictures, where one could read Dutch stories for 
weeks. But it is useless to attempt to specify, in 
such a Babel of curious treasures. 

We looked with some curiosity into the room 



330 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

once occupied by Mary, sister of Henry VIII of 
England, and widow of Louis XII. The room, with 
iis bed and curtains and furniture, we enjoyed in- 
specting; but most of all the spinet, the little, queer 
instrument on which her royal fingers used to make 
music. This room is now designated as ^^La Reine 
Blanche,'' because of the custom of the queens of 
France, when widows, to dress in white — a custom 
poor Mary, Queen of Scots, carried to Holyrood 
Palace, and which the Covenanters so disapproved 
she had to don sable weeds. 

Our Guide-book told us a portion of Hotel Cluny, 
called Palais des Thermes, was so very old that it 
was occupied by Julian when he was proclaimed 
emperor, so far back as 360. In order to fortify 
ourselves as far as possible in this belief, we went 
out to look about the crumbling, moldy walls, and 
decided, at last, to accept the assertion without 
question, since it was pleasant to do so. 

In our wanderings among things past and present, 
we one day found our way to the old house or palace 
of Madame de Sevigne; but it was unfortunately 
undergoing repairs, and we saw nothing but empty 
rooms, workmen, and plaster. But the court, with 
its green grass and few standing trees, gave us a 
breath of other days. 

Coming back through the most densely peopled 
part of the city, we stopped at Halles Central, or 
Central Market. This CQvers several acres, where a 
series of sheds or pavilions are covered by a glass 



PERE LA CHAISE. 33 1 

roof, under which are great storehouses for grain, 
butter, cheese, and innumerable stalls for meat, veg- 
etables, and so on. Mingling with the clamor and 
noise of the market comes up a faint roar from the 
numerous under-ground railroad-trains, coming and 
going, from the country and different portions of the 
city, with their great burden of produce, to be depos- 
ited at Halles Central, in the immense vaults. 

About this portion of the city French refinement 
never gained a foothold. The men look coarse, 
hard, sullen, impudent; and here congregate the 
coarsest, roughest class of women to be found in all 
Paris, and long known under the name of fish- 
women. In the history of that city, their turbulent, 
riotous natures are too well known to need repetition. 

But we will turn from this subject to what the 
Germans would call the ^' court of peace;" namely, 
Pere la Chaise. No such place we have seen seems 
more literally a ^^city of the dead.'' The narrow 
streets run in terraces along on the hill-sides, and 
they are thickly built with the abodes of the dead, 
in many forms and fashions, — some costly, some 
plain, some fresh and white in finely chiseled marble, 
some moldy and grim with dirt and age. As we 
wandered among those narrow, noiseless, gloomy 
streets, we thought by contrast how far more beauti- 
ful were Greenwood, Laurel Hill, and other cem- 
eteries in our country, where abounding space, 
trees, and flowers give them a far more cheerful 
atmosphere. 



332 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

However, there was to us very much of interest 
in visiting the famous Pere la Chaise, and we wan- 
dered from point to point, looking after the graves 
of the illustrious ones who are there taking their last 
sleep. A romantic interest led us to the tomb of 
Eloise and Abelard. We .also went into the Jews' 
quarter, to visit the tomb of the distinguished Rachel, 
and many others, whose names have so long been 
familiar to one in the different branches of literature 
and art. La Fontaine and Moliere lie in the same 
inclosure. Among the few, I remember St. Hilaire, 
the natural philosopher- Pradier, the sculptor; La 
Place, the great astronomer. In a small inclosed 
piece of ground is the grave of Marshal Ney, without 
a monument : at his request, only a little garden of 
flowers. The summit of the hill commands a pleas- 
ant view; but I was disappointed in finding it so 
dreary. A mourning aspect is given to the whole 
by the multiplicity of dead flower-wreaths, and 
poorly colored immortelles, and miserable adornings 
of beads. However, the gloomy skies, under which 
we saw this place, doubtless very much toned our 
impressions. 

It was a brighter day when I visited the Church 
of St. Denis, the burial-place of the kings and 
queens of France. ' This is some six miles from the 
city. It may be interesting to give a brief history 
of this church. *^A chapel was founded here in 
250. Dagobert I, son of Cilperic, was the first 
prince interred within its walls. Dagobert founded 



TOMBS OF THE KINGS. 333 

the Abbey of St. Denis. Pepin, father of Charle- 
magne, commenced a new church there, which was 
finished by his son, and consecrated in 775. During 
the reign of Louis VII, in 1144, the present fine 
church was built." 

The exterior is quite imposing, and the ornaments 
curious. About the portals are many sculptured 
figures in high relief. Both outside and inside, it 
has been finished and adorned with great care and 
cost. ' * The church is cruciform ; consists of a nave 
and two aisles, with lateral chapels." ^*Its nave and 
choir, with the transept, have a light triforium; and 
clear-story windows, filled with figures in stained 
glass." So that one sees pictures on all sides, and the 
whole interior is flooded with rich, rainbow hues. 

The chapels are painted and finished in Byzantine 
style, and in the windows are some fine specimens 
of old stained glass. The pavements are in rich and 
curious mosaics; the monuments numerous, old and 
new, plain; and some also very elegant. One very 
noticeable one is that of Henry II and his queen, 
Catherine de Medici. They are in state robes, and 
have crowns upon their heads. At each corner of 
the tomb are placed figures in bronze, representing 
the cardinal virtues. 

Opposite is a splendid tomb of Francis I. This 
tomb is supported by sixteen fluted Ionic columns. 
On it are the figures of the dauphin, Duke of 
Orleans, and Princess Charlotte. 

A large cenotaph, with arches, is adorned with 



334 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

figures of the twelve apostles. Surmounting, all 
are two fine marble statues, kneeling, — King Louis 
and Annie. 

One of the most beautiful statues there, is one of 
Marie Antoinette. It represents her in full court 
costume, but in kneeling attitude. It is very elab- 
orate in workmanship, and very pleasing in its 
impression. 

I will, however, enumerate no more of the great 
number. Few places, I think, would more stir head 
and heart, and the suggestions are endless. 

In this mausoleum lie the renowned, the historic- 
ally great, who played a conspicuous part on the 
world's stage. They reveled in luxury, pomp, and 
splendor. Now they lie, a mass of crumbling dust; 
and cold effigies, in stone or marble, stand to preach 
to us a solemn lesson on mortality. Nevertheless, 
they and their times are woven in the meshes of 
history; and it is exceedingly interesting, when 
brought in contact with these relics and monuments 
of the past, to compare those persons and times with 
the present, and to mark the political, social, and 
moral status. 

I believe, in all respects, the ^^ world moves;" 
slowly, perhaps, but surely, it moves : and God, by 
using us as his instruments, is advancing his plans. 
We, in our hot haste, do not rightly consider, or 
correctly decipher, the scroll he unrolls for us. In 
the tramp of the multitude we distinguish not his 
stately steppings. We are slow, dull scholars, else 



REFLECTIONS. 335 

we should learn more readily, from the pages of 
profane and sacred history, to discern the ''signs of 
the times.'' 

We are told there is nothing new under the sun; 
but old truths are taking on new forms — sometimes, 
at first sight, startling ones — but we soon find our- 
selves and society assimilating to them. 

It seems one of the striking features of the present 
times is the march of free, liberal opinions; not lat- 
itudinarianism, but generous, unfettered freedom in 
politics and religion — a breaking away from long- 
established dogmas, whose principal merit is their 
antiquity. 

In politics, we view it as the development of 
republicanism — or, in a higher sense, we hope, true 
manliness— wherein integrity, intellect, and real merit 
are to be better estimated at their true value, and 
crowns and principalities will cease to astonish 
and awe. 

We feel, and regret to acknowledge, that in our 
country, in place of courtly pomp and royal crowns, 
our people have a ''golden calf," and they are at 
present dazzled and blinded by its meretricious 
ghtter; but we trust to time, culture, and the tri- 
umph of Christian graces, for the abatement of this 
groveling influence; for, with all the abounding sins 
and defects of the age, there was never a time 
when so many hearts were stirred to self-sacrificing 
labor, and when gold was more profusely poured 
out to help on the Churches, and, in the way of 



336 SCENES IN EUROPE. 

charity, feeding and clothing the destitute, and 
pouring oil into wounded hearts. 

This fact we recognize with delight, knowing 
that the exercise of these human sympathies warm, 
refine, and elevate; and thus, while we are rearing 
great political, moral, and spiritual structures, we 
shall look hopefully for the rapid coming of art- 
culture, art-appreciation, and art-monuments more 
worthy of our nation. Lavater says, * * He only 
who has enjoyed immortal moments can reproduce 
them." We have had three, — the Landing of the 
Pilgrims, the War of Independence, and the late 
Rebellion. ^^ Great events form the character of 
a people; art illustrates them;" and we hope much 
from its polishing, refining influences upon our 
country. 

In these days of so much intercourse with 
Europe, we are both receiving and giving. The 
leaven of our free institutions is spreading, and, in 
this era of the rapid crystallization of history, we 
may look for startling changes, and an upheaval 
of old-established systems there, and for the spread 
of better aesthetic taste and culture here. Above all, 
we hope that the vivifying influences of a pure and 
vital religion may mold us, individually, more and 
more into the ^'perfect image" of Him who was in 
all things our true model. 



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